


what the fuck is that

by They_Call_Me_Asshole



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bottom Arthur, Bottom Arthur Morgan, But hes aged up when he has sex with arthur, Early chapters are mostly arthur and dutch, F/M, Gun Violence, Im doing this for fun idk, Jealous John, Killing, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Or Arthur and omc, Or dutch and annabelle, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining John, Prostitution, So dont expect john smut til later chapters, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Top Dutch van der Linde, Top John Marston, Young John Marston, confused arthur, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/They_Call_Me_Asshole/pseuds/They_Call_Me_Asshole
Summary: The beginnings of the Van der linde gang. Teenage Arthur going through pain, suffering, and heartbreak. Growing up to be someone he never wanted to be, but had to be. The gang grows with him, in number as much as maturity.(Main ship is John and Arthur)(Others are background)(This is just for fun cuz i like the characters)(However there is some messages in the storyline, maybe advice someone might need)
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Annabelle/Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan/Original Male Character(s), John Marston/Arthur Morgan, Mary Beth Gaskill/Lenny Summers, Sadie Adler & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

"What is that?" Arthur asked Dutch in a freaked tone. The 19 year old outlaw's face contorted into one of confusion. Dutch grinned and pushed forward a young boy, maybe 14 or 15, with black greasy hair and dirty clothes. 

"A boy." Dutch said proudly. "Your new brother!"

"No," Arthur scoffed "I ain't no brother of his. Hosea, what's this crazy man doing?" 

Hosea shrugged, getting off of the wagon with a jump. "You know how Dutch is." Hosea handed Arthur a container of Potent Health Cure, Arthur thanked him. "He's always bringing in whatever people he can into his little 'gang'." Hosea sent a glare Dutch's way while using air quotes around "gang". 

"I'm telling you, Hosea, this gang is getting bigger. Now, especially, with little John here." Dutch grinned and patted the small boy on the back. John looked up at Dutch and flashed him a prize smile. Arthur rolled his eyes and tucked the medicine into his satchel. Hosea had made his way to the back of the wagon, unpacking the things he and Dutch had bought from the General Store. "This here boy tried to rob us; didn't ya, Johnny?" 

"Yes, sir." John nodded. His voice was stronger than Arthur imagined, the boy looked thin and frail but his eyes and voice were harsh and strong. It surprised Arthur briefly but not for too long. 

"That's the way to ol' Dutch's heart, I guess." Hosea grunted when he lifted a heavy crate of Canned Vegetables. Arthur snorted and went to help Hosea. He heard John's light footsteps follow behind him to help too. 

"I'm just saying, if we was someone else he would've robbed us silly." Dutch smiled and leaned against a nearby tree. He lifted a cigar to his lips and lit it swiftly. 

Arthur shrugged and carried some crates over to the camp. Again, he heard soft footsteps coming up behind him. Arthur glared at nothing, frustrated with this kid already. The footsteps became faster paced and soon the greasy-haired kid was walking beside him. Dutch and Hosea were left behind near the wagon as Arthur and John brought the crates all the way over to camp. "My name's John Marston." the kid said. 

"Arthur." Arthur mumbled back. 

"Nice ta meetcha, Arthur." 

"Talk right, boy." 

"I ain't no boy, I'm fifteen years old." John huffed in return. "And I can talk however I'd like ta." 

Arthur shrugged again after setting down his crate near the Provisions Wagon. Arthur turned to see John doing the same thing very close to where Arthur had set his crate down. "You don't have to stand so damn close, boy." 

"My name isn't boy, it's John." 

"Boys!" Ms. Grimshaw stomped over to them. "End your worthless fighting and help me find Pearson!" 

"I was wondering where he was." Arthur mumbled. 

"Who's Pearson?" John asked curiously. 

"Our terrible cook." Ms. Grimshaw answered, "He's big everywhere except where it counts. You won't miss 'im. Big old dirty fella." she sighed and shook her head. 

Arthur turned to see Hosea and Dutch carrying over the last two crates. "I can go look for him, Ms. Grimshaw. I think I know where he might've gone." 

"I can go too!" John chirped in. Arthur glared at him.

"You ain't comin' with me, John. It's your first day here and I don't want you ruinin' just about everything yet."  
John huffed and turned to walk to Dutch, probably to go whine and complain. Arthur rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I won't be long." He told Ms. Grimshaw before jogging over to his horse, Zeke. Zeke is a gorgeous Tennessee Walker, fast and healthy. Black coat, and tall; a bit too tall for Arthur when he first got him but Arthur grew like a weed when he turned 17 and has gotten big enough. He gave Zeke some hay and petted him gently, "There you go, Zeke." Arthur told him gently before kicking back to get Zeke to start walking. 

Arthur didn't have to go very far to find Pearson. Pearson usually drunk himself dizzy and plopped down next to some tree near their camp. He never really went into any towns, Arthur would ask why if he cared enough, but he didn't. Arthur had gotten so good at finding people that he became the sort of "Bounty Hunter" of the camp. Hell, Arthur was even good at doing bounties for the law. Arthur didn't even have to get off of the saddle for Pearson to push himself up off the dirt and hurl himself over Zeke, it had become routine. Zeke grunted and Arthur pet him again gently. "Sorry, boy." Arthur made his way back to camp, content that it was still pretty early in the day and he could probably go to Blackwater for a haircut. 

\---

When they returned, Susan Grimshaw had already unpacked the contents of the crates into their respective wagons. The dirty blonde outlaw, Arthur, was content to see that Dutch and Hosea had half a mind to get some ammunition. Dutch had been kind enough to set up Arthur's tent next to the ammunition wagon, they had even started calling the wagon "Arthur's Ammunition" because of how much Arthur used them. He's their best shot, and practically their guard. You need an errand run? You need Arthur. You need someone to go huntin'? You need Arthur. Arthur is their lead enforcer, almost like a leader. So after Dutch and Hosea, people of the gang looked to him.

"Copper!" Arthur called out for his dog, who came running like a speeding bullet towards him at the sound of his name. Arthur grinned ear to ear and lifted the dog up into his arms. Copper lapped at Arthur's face eagerly. "Hey there, boy. How are you?" 

"I said to keep that dog off your clothes, Arthur!" Came Ms. Grimshaw's stern voice. Arthur placed Copper down and continued petting him. 

"Cool, a dog." John said from behind Arthur. Arthur turned to look at him. "What's his name?" 

"Copper." Arthur muttered turning back to see his pet. "He bites." 

"He don't look so mean." John reached his hand forward, Copper sniffed at his hand and started to lick at his fingers. "Cute." 

Arthur huffed and stood up straight. "Whatever. I'mma go find Dutch." Arthur left John and Copper and headed to Dutch's tent, where Dutch and Hosea were having a conversation. 

"Poor boy, about to get - " Dutch stopped when he saw Arthur. "Heya, Arthur." 

"Dutch." Arthur greeted. Hosea shifted awkwardly and excused himself. "What's the deal with the boy?" 

"I told you already, son. He tried to rob us, we caught 'im, we took 'im home." 

"He got family? Someone to return him to." Arthur glared at a random, innocent tree. The story far too close to his own. 

"Nah," Dutch shook his head. "Look, Arthur, I know it's always been just you me and Hosea but we're a gang now. And gangs need members." 

"Members." Arthur repeated with a scoff. "Not children." 

"He's fifteen. You were fourteen when we picked you up." Dutch reasoned. 

"We weren't a 'gang', back then." Arthur raised his hands to do air quotes. 

"Right. We were family, and he's family now." Dutch placed his hand in Arthur's shoulder. "Son," 

"Dutch-"

"Trust me." Dutch's eyes were burning into Arthur's soul. His hand clenched tightly but in such a caring manner on Arthur's shoulder that it made the teen shudder. Arthur brought himself to stare back, he only realized he had stopped breathing when he noticed Dutch's chest rise and fall. His broad...firm...chest. 

"Okay, Dutch." Arthur ripped his gaze away. "I trust you." 

______________________________________________________________


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dutch and Arthur's relationship is not healthy. Please don't root for it, you will soon find out why it's not a good relationship if you haven't picked up on it already.

Arthur left camp that same day to ride out to Blackwater, he planned on getting a haircut. Arthur liked to keep as clean as possible, no matter how many times Pearson told him how "Real Outlaws" don't care about hygiene. It doesn't matter to Arthur what real outlaws do, not really. Arthur didn't care much about fitting into anything. His plan was just to stick by Dutch and Hosea, and move out West where life was really good. Maybe settle with a nice girl, have a son, and die old. It was a fantasy he dreamt of many times in a day, sure - he didn't believe it'll actually happen, and maybe he didn't really want that life for himself anyway, but the idea of peace and quiet made him feel better. 

Point being; Arthur didn't care about being the Outlaw of outlaws. He just cared about surviving, and if surviving meant robbing, killing, and riding from place to place then so be it. But does that mean he'll stop himself from taking a hot bath every week(at least) and being well groomed? Hell no.

Riding into Blackwater was easy enough, no one really knew him or the gang. They hadn't tried to make any scores or started (or finished) any fights. To be fair, they did just move nearby but Arthur counted it as a win anyway. He hitched Zeke and made his runs. Food, ammo, haircut. Yes, he bought extra food and ammo even though Dutch and Hosea brought some in already. The camp finished them all off so quickly, Arthur had to make sure he had something for himself to count on. 

By the time he finished up, it was getting dark. So he paid for a bath and left back to camp afterwards. Not bothering to rent a room for the night, the camp wasn't far and he was hoping to sneak into Dutch's tent tonight. Annabelle was off doing some work in the town til morning so Dutch would be all by himself in his tent tonight and Arthur was meaning to make him feel a little less alone. 

\----

The night overwhelmed the sky by the time Arthur had gotten back to camp. Most everyone was asleep, at least no one was out of their tents. Arthur tip toed quietly into camp, he noticed Dutch's tent was glowing from the lantern he had aflame inside. Arthur grinned and pushed the tent flap open. 

"Hey, Dutch." Arthur greeted. Dutch was sitting on his bed reading something. Dutch looked up from the book, 'The American Inferno', and smiled. 

"Arthur." Dutch set the book down onto a small nightstand next to his bed. He patted the empty space next to him. "Sit down, Arthur." Arthur moved forward and did as told. "What brings you by?" 

"Just..." Arthur bit his lip. "Everyone's asleep, and Annabelle ain't comin' back til tomorrow." 

Dutch grinned and placed a hand on Arthur's thigh. "What are you thinking of, son?" Arthur's breath hitched as he locked eyes with Dutch. 

"Kissing you." He mumbled. Dutch chuckled and leaned forward, Arthur reflected him naturally. Their lips pressed together, Dutch's beard and mustache scratched at Arthur's shaven skin. Arthur closed his eyes and felt Dutch move his hand further up on his thigh, and another hand hold Arthur's chin firmly. 

They only pulled apart when they had to finally take a breath. " 's that all? Arthur?" Dutch pushed. 

"No, I-" Arthur licked his lips, they felt swollen from kissing Dutch. "I was thinking about spending the night here, with you, doing...doing what we've been doing." 

"Say it, Arthur." Arthur pouted and hid his face in Dutch's shoulder. He mumbled something. "I couldn't hear you, Arthur. Say it clearly." 

Arthur leaned away and locked eyes with Dutch again. He felt his lip quiver and his thighs twitch excitedly. "I want you to fuck me, Dutch." 

Dutch hummed and kissed Arthur again, it was slow and Arthur felt himself get lost in the kiss. Every touch from Dutch felt like sparks of electricity, and Arthur needed more. He was desperate for Dutch's touch, his hold. Steadily, Dutch eased Arthur onto the bed. Arthur spread his legs wide for Dutch to sit in between comfortably. A moan slipping past his chapped lips when Dutch pressed his pelvis against Arthur's. The blonde felt Dutch's hardness against his own and Arthur began to grind up against him. Dutch tsked and kissed down Arthur's neck. 

"So beautiful." Dutch whispered against Arthur's neck. "I like that shirt on you, Arthur." Dutch played with the fabric of the striped blue collar shirt Arthur had on. Arthur smiled and let his hands wander on Dutch's shoulders. 

No matter how much Dutch liked what Arthur was wearing, it didn't phase him enough to strip Arthur nude. Arthur helping Dutch out of his own clothes soon after. They were both naked, flesh on flesh as they breathed heavily. Kisses got sloppy when Dutch slicked his fingers in gun oil and pressed them into Arthur, their cocks rutting against anything in closeness. Arthur contained his moans as he had learned to for the past 3 years of doing this with Dutch. Their secrecy was important. 

Soon, Dutch was pushing himself into Arthur. Arthur grimaced at the pain of the stretch, they had used gun oil but it still felt strange everytime. They had done this enough, though, that Arthur expected it to get better soon. And so it did, soon Arthur was rocking back and forth on the bed in synchronization with Dutch's heavy thrusts. Dutch's hand pumping Arthur's length. Arthur's eyes half lidded in bliss, he listened to Dutch's pants and groans of pleasure until he could no longer sense or hear. Lost in his orgasm, he didn't notice when Dutch continued to thrust into him. Arthur only regained his senses when Dutch had pulled out of him, leaving a trail of white goo on Arthur's hole and thigh. 

They were quiet for a bit, laying next to each other in the cramped bed. Arthur turned to look at Dutch's face which was wearing a focused expression. "What are you thinking about, Dutch?" 

"Nothing, Arthur. Just the usual, you should go to your tent now." Dutch smiled. 

Arthur sighed and kissed Dutch one more time. "Okay, see you then." 

"See you."

______________________________________________________________

Arthur woke in a start after the sound of screaming pierced through his skull. Arthur tugged on his pants and pulled on his blue striped collar shirt before hurrying out of his tent. "What is going on?!" Arthur yelled at the sight of John backing off from a frightened Annabelle. 

Dutch too came out of his tent, Arthur turned to look at him but Dutch was focused on the problem at hand. "What in god's name happened?" 

"The boy," Annabelle's voice wavered "he scared me. I was coming back into camp and- nd he just popped up out of nowhere! He's no tall and skinny, I can't believe I couldn't hear him or spot him before he got so close." 

John had a red flush on his cheeks. "Sorry, ma'am." Arthur shook his head and snorted. 

"It's Annabelle, not 'ma'am'."

"Okay." John nodded. "Sorry, Annabelle." 

Dutch sighed. "Were you able to make much?" 

"Is six dollars much?" Annabelle handed Dutch some bills.

"It's something. Thank you, Annabelle." Dutch smiled and pecker her cheek, Annabelle giggled and the couple walked towards Dutch's tent. 

"Thank you, Arthur! For coming so quickly to my rescue!" She called to the blonde, her and Dutch laughing. 

Arthur nodded awkwardly and waved goodbye. How strange it was to be thanked by the woman who your lover is dating. Stranger because he had just had sex with Dutch last night, and now she was going to do the same thing right now. Would he call her beautiful, too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CURRENT AGES: (not cannon in the actual game)
> 
> \- Pearson 40  
> \- Hosea 37  
> \- Susan 32  
> \- Dutch 29  
> \- Annabelle 23  
> \- Arthur 19  
> \- John 15
> 
> Pls comment 🏋🏋😳 they give me power


	3. Chapter 3

John stared at Arthur, the outlaw was watching Dutch and Annabelle walk away.

"What are you staring at, boy." Arthur grumbled. 

"I said my name is John." John snapped back, it was easy for John to math Arthur's height despite the fact Arthur is 4 years older. However, John knew Arthur could take John easily in a fight. No matter how tall John might be currently, Arthur was very built and John is still a bit skinny where muscle should be. 

Arthur glared at him but eventually turned away. "Whatever." Arthur started to walk away but John followed closely. Arthur peered over his shoulder and John waved. John liked to follow Arthur. Despite the blonde's bad attitude, John thought Arthur was pretty cool. Dutch had told John about how Arthur was their lead enforcer, and how he and Hosea had picked Arthur up when he was 14. John felt like maybe Arthur could give him some tips, seeing that John was basically Arthur with extra steps. Sure, maybe Dutch and Hosea didn't just pick John up, hell, they saved him from getting hung, but Arthur doesn't know that. "Why are you following me?" Arthur finally snapped at John.

"You wore that shirt yesterday." John commented, not knowing what else to say. 

"Yeah. And you've probably worn that outfit your whole life." Arthur glared. 

"Probably. I don't have any other clothes." John shrugged. 

Arthur looked John up and down. The outlaw glanced towards Dutch's tent and pursed his lips. "I guess I can take you into town, buy you some things. I'll have to interrupt Dutch and Annabelle for some cash. Stay near the horses, I'll be right back." John did as told and watched Arthur march over to Dutch's tent and ease the flaps open. He heard a little yelp and protest but Arthur eventually came out with a wad of cash and a frustrated, almost pensive look. 

"How much we got?" John asked excitedly when Arthur got close. 

"Almost two hundred. We'll get you two outfits and a saddle. You got a horse?" 

"No."

"I'll catch you one, there's some wild horses somewhere 'round here. I'm sure." Arthur pulled himself up onto a tall, black Tennessee Walker. Arthur looked down at John expectantly. John scrambled and hurled himself up onto the back of the horse. "You know how to ride, John?" 

"A bit. I've never had a horse before. Just used 'em here 'n' there when I needed to get out of a town. 'Usually stole 'em 'n' let 'em go afterwards. They never really liked me much." John wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. Arthur stiffened. 

"Right. Sure. I'll show you how." Arthur pulled at the reigns and soon the horse was on its way on the trail. "What else don't you know how to do?" 

"What do I need to know?" John asked in return. 

"Well," Arthur shifted a bit and grunted, "do you know how to hunt?" 

"Sure. Not perfect but I can do the job." 

"Shoot?" 

"I like to think I'm a good gunslinger." John smiled when he felt Arthur laugh. His shoulders doing a little bounce. 

"Right. Do you know how to fish?" 

"Hardly." John answered honestly. 

"Don't worry. I ain't good at it either. Hosea is; I'm sure he'll teach you." Arthur hummed in thought. "I guess that's the important things. Anything else I'm sure you'll pick up along the way." 

"Sure." John nodded. He started to see the signs of a town, buildings in the horizon and some more traffic on the trail. They were quiet the rest of the way, John enjoyed the air blowing past when Arthur sped up. He heard Arthur whisper commands to his horse. Zeke? John think he heard Arthur call him that at some point. Zeke is a nice name, John supposed.

John was expecting them to keep going into town, but suddenly Arthur pulled the reigns and headed left and off the trail. "Wha-" John yelped but Arthur didn't explain. 

"Hya!" Arthur ordered Zeke. Zeke sped up and John leaned to the side to peer over Arthur's shoulder. There in front of them was a group of wild horses. Maybe a Mustang or a Morgan, John didn't know his horses well. It was a race, but eventually the horses started to slow and Arthur began to call out to them. A horse with a nice brown coat, medium height and thin build slowed to a stop. Arthur stopped Zeke. "Stay here." He whispered to John and Zeke. 

John watched as Arthur slowly approached the horse. Every now and then stopping to calm it. Eventually, Arthur got close enough to mount the horse. John watched Arthur expertly broke the horse, avoiding being bucked off until the horse calmed. Arthur brought the horse over with a smile. "You lucky bastard. Got yourself a race horse. A little young, but she'll grow." 

John hopped off of Zeke and walked over. "Thank you Arthur." 

"Sure, get some carrots out of my bag and the brush. Bring it over here so she can get to likin' you." Arthur got off of the horse and waited for John. John jogged back to Zeke and grabbed 3 carrots and a brush. He came back with an eager smile, John reached forward and fed her a carrot. The horse neighed happily. Arthur patted John on the back. "What'll you name her?" 

"Rachel, I think." John smiled and stared at Rachel. He brushed her beautiful dark brown coat. Arthur snorted and shrugged. 

"Alright. Let's go into town and I'll get you a saddle and some thing for her too." Arthur whistled for Zeke who came trotting happily. Arthur pulled himself up and waited for John to do the same. John balanced himself on Rachel and held onto her rope reigns. "Let's go." Arthur ordered and led John to Blackwater. 

They had to go a little West of Blackwater to get to the Stables, but once they got there John was bombarded with congratulations. "What a fine horse," the stable man commented. John thanked him nervously. 

"Pick out a saddle, blanket, good stirrups, saddlebag, and a bedroll." Arthur told John. "Oh and get yourself some provisions for her, like carrots and hay. I'll give you some medicines for her; don't worry much about that." 

John nodded and picked some out. He tried to theme the things with brown and red colors as they were his favorite colors. By the end, they had spent $100. John felt a twinge of guilt for making Arthur spend so much, but Arthur didn't seem bothered. John felt good with his new things that he had forgotten about the clothes. "Thank you again, Arthur. This is real nice of you." 

"Sure." Arthur shrugged. "Let's go get you some clothes." John blinked twice before following Arthur to the general store. "Get two union suits, and a good hat. Whatever else you get is up to you." Arthur handed John $60 when the hitched their horses. "I'mma go to the bar, play some poker. You can ride back to camp or look for me but wait about half an hour before you do. So take your time with the clothes." John nodded and waited for Arthur to leave and go into the bar before going into the general store. 

______________________________________________________________

Arthur entered the bar with purpose, he had five dollars left in his pocket. He had taken fifty from Dutch and he was going to make them back. Or at least half of it to return to Dutch. Arthur looked around at the audience before him, looking for the usual signs. Most men in the bar were dirty, old, and gruff. Occasionally, though, Arthur would spot a strangely clean man. Sometimes they'd be reading, sometimes they'd be drinking water at a fucking bar. And Arthur would come up to them, and ask if they liked poetry. 

"You like poetry?" Arthur asked a young looking man. His hair slicked back, short and black. His eyes green and his nose bent a bit to the left. Must've broken it. He was handsome. 

"I..." He flushed. "I do." 

"My name's Albert." Arthur smiled. "I know a place 'round back of the bar. A little shed. Maybe you can tell me some lines of that book you have there?" 

"Yes. I mean," he stuttered, "sure. I'm Mason." 

Arthur smiled. "See you, Mason." Arthur moved gracefully out of the bar. He snuck around to the back and moved towards a small shed that he had spotted a few days ago when they had just moved in. He made sure no one else was around before he opened the door and waited inside.

There was a knock on the door and then it creaked open. Mason peered in shyly. When he came inside he cleared his throat. "You aren't..tricking me, are you?"

"No," Arthur smiled. "But you gotta pay. You have money?" 

"I've got some, yeah." Mason frowned. "How much?" 

"Seventy." Arthur kissed Mason's neck. Mason inhaled sharply. 

"Ah!" He moaned. "You that good?" 

"Mhmmm," Arthur hummed and reached down into Mason's pants.

______________________________________________________________

That day, Arthur had been introduced to Vaseline which worked far better than gun oil. He got paid $80 instead of $70 and Mason asked to see Arthur again in a month in the same place. Arthur said he'd try. 

Arthur cleaned himself up and went to look for John near the horses. John was feeding Rachel, he had a new hat. Arthur whistled and John looked up and waved. Arthur hurried over to him and carefully mounted himself onto Zeke. His hips hurting slightly. "Hey, John."

"Hey." John smiled. "Where were you?" 

"What do you mean?" Arthur watched John get onto his saddle. 

"You weren't at the bar?" John explained further. 

"Oh. I went to play poker upstairs. It's hush hush. Got myself some cash." Arthur shrugged. "You got everything?" 

"I did." 

"Good, let's head home." Arthur smiled at John and John smiled back, his hat casting a shadow over his clean shaven face. John had gotten a haircut. Arthur chuckled and headed off back towards camp, content with their day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know where to find a lot of Elk? 
> 
> 🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠


	4. Chapter 4

When they got back to camp, John could say he learned a little more about horses and how to properly handle them. Arthur had talked to him the whole way about it. They hitched their horses and Arthur watched John excitedly head to Hosea's tent, probably to show him all the cool things Arthur had bought for him. Arthur smiled, sure, the guy was annoying but he was polite and full of life. 

Arthur sighed and headed over to Dutch's tent. This time, instead of going in without saying anything, Arthur announced his presence. "Hey Dutch. Can I come in?" 

The tent flap pulled open. Dutch was alone, reading. "See, how hard was that?" 

"Not hard, Dutch." Arthur walked into the tent and reached into his satchel. He pulled out fifty dollars. "I won our money back in a poker game. John has everything he needs. Horse, saddle, clothes, and -" Arthur groaned. "Oh no, I forgot the guns." 

Dutch laughed. "Don't worry, son, John's got himself a nice pistol and a hunting knife. He can buy himself more on his own. You did good, Arthur." Dutch patted Arthur's shoulder. "Thank you for coming around." 

Arthur eyed him up and down. Dutch thought he was "coming around"? More like Arthur had to take the boy shopping, otherwise he'd be too unequipped to do his own damn work. But instead of lashing out, Arthur smiled. "Sure, Dutch." 

______________________________________________________________

Arthur was sitting next to the camp fire drinking some coffee for the cold evening. He had mulled over his options, he could go hunt some deer or he could stay in camp and sleep after a long day of being with John. Arthur wasn't one to stay in camp all day, he liked to go out and make money for the camp. Sometimes he'd hunt to sell to butchers, sometimes he'd rob whatever asshole he met, sometimes he'd steal the horse off someone if they didn't return his friendly "Hello". And whenever he, Dutch and Hosea fought off the O' Driscolls, Arthur would make sure to loot every single one they shot down. 

At first, when Dutch had told him to do that Arthur had nearly puked up his breakfast. Having to take off wedding rings and finding love notes or finding heirlooms from the dead bodies reminded him they were human. That he had shot someone's husband, son, or daddy. He had taken away some poor kid's old man as the law had taken Arthur's. 

He had to learn fast, though, because there was no room for puking on the job. He had had to stomach it, and grow a pair. Later he forced the idea on himself that they were aiming to shoot him too, so it was okay.

Deep down inside, the voice inside Arthur knows it's not. The voice that gets louder whenever he's out of the camp, riding across whatever country or trail he could find, the voice would remind him all the terrible things he had done. All the awful things he had done for Dutch. 

"Arthur!" Came a familiar raspy voice. Arthur looked up to see Hosea. "Come with me, will you? I'm trying to teach John how to read and he's having troubles." 

"And you think I can help?" Arthur snorted, but getting up anyway. 

Hosea nodded and led him to his tent. "Well I taught you already, might as well have the help." John was sitting cross legged on the floor, trying to figure something out in the book in front of him. Arthur took a seat next to him. 

"What are you reading?" Arthur peered over at the open book.

"An American Eden." John said proudly. 

"I told you that, John, you didn't read it." Hosea snorted. 

John frowned and Arthur sat closer to him and pointed at the first word. "What's that say, John?"

"Umm.. Well that's a t-h, so that makes the th- sound." John mumbled. "And that's an e, and a y. So, th- e- y." He pursed his lips, trying to find a word he used already to pair with the sound. "They?" He finally said. 

"That's right!" Arthur patted his back. "You know your alphabet well?" 

"Hosea taught me." John smiled up at Hosea. 

"Yeah, Hosea's good at teaching things. He should've been a teacher, not a conman." Arthur said playfully. Hosea laughed and smacked Arthur's head gently. "Okay then, what's the next word, John?"

_____________________________________________________________

"Arthur!" Ms. Grimshaw shuffled over to him and John. "Arthur, Annabelle is going crazy, you have to calm her down!" 

Arthur stood in a hurry and searched for Annabelle. "Where is she?" 

"Taking down your tent, Arthur." Susan pointed towards Arthur's tent where Annabelle was yanking down the cloth of the tent. 

"Hey!" He yelled, marching over. "Annabelle, stop what you're doing, will you?" 

"No!" She snapped, still yanking. 

"I am begging you, miss, please stop." Arthur took the calm route. Annabelle glared at him and continued. Arthur sighed. "Well, why are you doing this Annabelle?" 

She stopped and huffed. "You!" She pointed a finger at Arthur. "You're trying to steal my man!" 

"Your man?" Arthur snorted, he noticed Dutch approaching them from his peripheral vision. 

"Dutch!" She cried and fled to him. "He's taking you away from me!" Dutch stepped back from her. 

"What are you talking about, woman?" Dutch hissed. 

"You know what!" She snapped at him, her mood changing from innocent and pleading to angry and dangerous. 

"I don't!" Dutch yelled. 

"Alright, alright!" Hosea said in attempts to quiet everyone. "Now," he said when everyone was quiet "Miss Annabelle, please tell us why you were taking down Arthur's tent."

Annabelle looked like she was fuming, and torn. She looked between Dutch and Arthur, Arthur noticed Dutch give her a challenging look. "I-" she sighed. She looked defeated. "I was embarrassed that Arthur walked in on me and Dutch." 

"Now," Dutch said in a relieved tone "that is no reason to take his tent down." He laughed and shook his head, turning to the rest of the camp who had congregated around the scene. "That's all to see here folks." 

Pearson and Susan left to the provisions wagon, and Hosea and John returned to their lesson. Annabelle stood closely to Arthur and hissed at him. "I saw the marks you left on my man. And I found one of your riding gloves underneath Dutch's bed. I know." She threatened before walking away. 

Arthur sighed and set his tent back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So  
> Much  
> Homework 😐
> 
> Comment to give me power 😎


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur hurried to Dutch's tent after setting his tent back. Annabelle had gone into town after her "tantrum", as Pearson called it when speaking to Arthur and helping him collect some of his belongings she had thrown about. Arthur didn't bother "announcing his presence" like Dutch had instructed him to do since he walked in on him and Ann. 

"Dutch." Arthur said hurriedly. Dutch was pacing, he looked up from biting at his nails. 

"Arthur."

"Do you know?" 

"That she knows?" Dutch forced a laugh, his eyes filled with panic. "Yes, I do." Arthur groaned and sat down on the edge of Dutch's bed. 

"I'm sorry Dutch." He said quietly. Dutch turned to look at Arthur, his short hair falling over his forehead from running his hands through it so many times and his blue eyes locked on the ground. 

Dutch shook his head. "No, son, it's alright son. It'll be fine. We just have to be more careful." Dutch caressed Arthur's cheek and titled his head up to make eye contact. 

After a moment of silence Arthur licked his lips. "Let me make it up to you, Dutch." He reached for Dutch's pants. Dutch swallowed visibly. 

"The others?" 

"Doing things. Just be quiet." Arthur grinned up at Dutch and tugged the older man's pants down. His cock half hard. Arthur licked tentatively at the tip. Dutch's breath hitched. Arthur had done this so many times, whenever he made a mistake or got Dutch mad - this is how he'd apologize. 

There was something strange about Arthur getting down on his knees for Dutch. Kissing at places he knew made Dutch shudder from how many times he'd done it. Licking stripes of saliva up and down until Dutch became rock hard. Taking Dutch into his mouth and bobbing his head up and down Dutch's length like his life were depending on it. Until, eventually, Dutch would grab onto Arthur's short hair and thrust into Arthur's throat. Arthur would relax and breathe through his nose, feeling Dutch's cock hit the back of his throat but controlling his gag reflex. 

He remembered the first time he did this. Dutch had told him to get on his knees, angry that Arthur had gone off somewhere without telling him first. It seemed so unimportant now. Arthur had done as told, and Dutch had pushed his pants down and commanded Arthur to suck. Arthur hesitantly leaned forward with his mouth open and Dutch pushed himself into Arthur. Arthur nearly gagged, his eyes swelling with tears as Dutch used him until he came down Arthur's throat. He had told Arthur he needed practice. Arthur had made it his mission to get better. 

And he was. "So good." Dutch reminded him when Arthur made a motion with his tongue against Dutch's tip. Arthur moaned like a whore would and not long after Dutch came with a groan. He pulled out and tugged his pants back on. "Thank you Arthur." 

Arthur swallowed the hot cum as a man had taught him to back when he started selling himself to the "poets". Arthur stood up and wiped his mouth clean. "Sure," he said in a raspy voice. 

Another thing Arthur found strange is how he could do things like that with Dutch and still walk out into camp and have no one be the wiser.

He could walk over to Hosea, or Susan, or Pearson - hell even John! - and have a conversation with them with the same mouth that had just sucked and lapped at Dutch's cock. And no one would no, or expect it. Because Dutch always treated Arthur like a son, and why would a father do that to his...son. His train of thought altered. Arthur stared at the ground for a while. Dutch was like his father, why did he do this with him? Why did Arthur let and support him? If Hosea were to be the one who offered Arthur this type of relationship, would Arthur allow it? He shuddered in disgust, no. Of course not. Hosea was like his father! 

Arthur groaned in confusion.  
Then what was Dutch to Arthur?  
His head started to ache, what a position he was in. How many times Dutch had called Arthur "son" and how many times Dutch had shoved his cock up Arthur. 

"Arthur!" John jogged up to him. "Hosea asked me to ask you if you could take me hunting." 

Arthur frowned. "What, why?" 

"I'm tired of reading and I have a major headache and it can only be...subdued?... Yeah! Subdued- by hunting!" John smiled, his eyes wandering to the side of Arthur. Arthur turned to look and saw Hosea holding a thumbs up to John. He rolled his eyes and turned to Hosea. 

"I ain't going hunting right now, Hosea." Arthur explained. 

"Oh come on, Arthur!" He smiled. "Pearson needs more to cook anyway. You're our best hunter." 

Arthur raised a brow. "And?" He huffed. Hosea rolled his eyes and sighed.

"And the faster John learns to hunt, the faster he can bring in money to the camp and leave you the hell alone!" 

"That sounds more like it." Arthur grinned and Hosea laughed his great laugh that made Arthur feel proud of himself. Like a father laughing at something his son would do that made him remember his own youth. Arthur aspired to be like Hosea, so that laugh was wonderful.

John hurried to his horse, and Arthur went to collect some weapons and supplies. He joined John not long after, he looked giddy and excited. "Ready?" John asked Arthur. 

"Are you?" Arthur scoffed, mounting his horse with a grunt. 

"Always, Mr. Morgan." John grinned and Arthur smiled. 

"Stick with Arthur. 'Mr. Morgan' don't sound right coming from you." Arthur snorted as he fed Zeke some hay. 

"Why? Make you feel old, old man?" John teased. 

"I'm four years older than you!" Arthur defended as he gently kicked Zeke into a trot. 

"Don't look like it," John laughed "you look beyond your years, Mr. Morgan." 

"Call me that one more time and I swear-" Arthur glared at John who was coming up beside him as they began to follow the trail North. 

"Alright! Alright!" John smiled and raised a hand. "I'll stop." 

"Good. Thank you." He said sarcastically as he focused his gaze forward.

"Sure thing, Mr. Morgan." Arthur's lips twitched into a smile, he turned to see John who was grinning ear to ear. 

"You litte-!" Arthur reached to grab John but John kicked Rachel into full speed. 

"Catch me if you can, Mr. Morgan!" John laughed wildly. Arthur bursted out laughing and growled playfully as he started after John.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur felt the air fill his lungs, his laughter loud and fulfilling as he chased after John. John would turn to see Arthur periodically, a smile pasted firmly on his lips. Arthur cooed to Zeke, pleading for him to go faster and he did. Soon he was at John's side. 

"Howdy." he said through a laugh. John snorted and began to slow down. Arthur tugged at the reigns. "There's a hill not far from here," he shouted over to John "close to some woods. Easy to spot; it's right down this trail. If you want, we could race- hey!" Arthur shouted and held onto his hat as John zoomed forward after hearing Arthur mention "race". Arthur laughed at the challenge and raced for John, he had camped at that hill before. It was a good place to keep out of sight from trouble. So he was able to find a faster way there, cutting off the trail and speeding to his destination. He was able to reach the hill seconds before John did. John looked flabbergasted. 

"Howdy." John laughed. "That was fun." 

"Sure was." Arthur got off of his horse.

"You ain't that boring, I guess." John got off his horse. "So, where we hunting?" 

"We're not hunting until.the morning." Arthur snorted as he started to set up camp. John stood still. 

"What? No way. It's not even that dark." John huffed. 

"It's getting dark. Wolves come out around this time and they're far hungrier than you are, boy." Arthur started the fire. "If you even get a scratch from one of those things, it'll be on me." 

"I can defend myself from a stupid wolf, Arthur." John sat down near the fire in a upset manner. 

"I don't know that for sure. Besides, we probably ran off all the good meats by making so much commotion getting here. Let's wait it out and I'm sure that by the morning we'll have more to pick from."

Arthur sat down next to John. "I can handle myself, I swear." John mumbled. 

"I believe you, John, I do but I need you to do this to make sure this trip goes as smoothly as possible. That way you prove to Dutch and Hosea that you are as good as you say and you can do whatever you want whenever you want." Arthur patted John's shoulder. "How's that sound?" 

John hummed and smiled. "Alright. That's fine, I guess." He turned to look into Arthur's blue eyes. "Should we get to bed? Morning will come faster if we do." 

Arthur laughed and stood back up, heading for the tent. "Sure," he drawled, "why not." Arthur had a fairly large tent. Big enough for him and John to share and as the night became colder they were lucky to have each other so close. They lay shoulder to shoulder on their own bedrolls. 

"Okay," John cleared his throat. "Truth or lie?" 

"What?" Arthur snorted. 

"You've got to tell me either a truth or a lie, you pick which one." John explained. "I made it up. Look, you ask me." 

"Fine. Truth or lie?" 

"Lie." John answered quickly. "I have never drank before!" 

"So you have drunken?" Arthur asked confusedly. 

"Right. So either way, you find out about the other person." 

"That's stupid." Arthur laughed. "Just ask people questions if you wanna know 'bout 'em." John huffed in response. 

"It's just easier this way, but fine. I'll ask you questions like an old man, old man." He teased. "What's you favorite food?" 

"Really? That's a dumb question. I like peaches. My turn to ask a question right?" John nodded and Arthur continued. "Why did Dutch take you back to camp?" 

"Wow." John snorted. "Straight to the point, huh?" 

"Would you rather I ask you what your favorite poem is, John?" Arthur snickered and could practically feel John rolling his eyes. 

"Like Dutch said," John began, "I tried pick pocketing him and Hosea but it went South.-"

"See I find that hard to believe." Arthur said abruptly sitting up. "Because you are quite the sneaky fellow. You snuck up on Annabelle, and that women is the most paranoid of the paranoid." 

"Well they're Dutch and Hosea, I suppose they know when a fella is stealing from them." John leaned upwards on his elbows. 

"Maybe." Arthur shrugged, unsatisfied. 

"It's my turn. Where were you really when you went to go play 'poker'." John used his fingers to make air quotes.

"Playing poker." 

"That's a lie," John smirked. "I looked everywhere and snuck in every place and couldn't find you or no 'secret poker game'." 

"You didn't look everywhere then." Arthur smiled at John's confusion. 

"Only place I didn't check was small sheds and outhouses." John shrugged. "Were you taking a massive shit, or something? How'd you make the money?" 

"Or something." Arthur said, settling back down on his bedroll. 

"Come on! Tell me!" John poked at Arthur's cheek. Arthur glared. 

"I'll tell you if you quit pestering me and if you swear not to tell anyone." Arthur wasn't sure why he was about to tell John one of his deepest secrets, but there had been a sudden urge to get it off of his chest. And here was John, asking. 

"I swear." John put a hand over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die." 

"You're strange, John." Arthur snorted and John shrugged. "I was...um...okay, so there's certain types of men, right?" 

"Sure." 

"And they like poetry." 

"The stuff you read? That rhymes?" 

"Some of it rhymes, others don't. Hosea will tell you. Main point is, these men like "poetry" which is code for men who like...men." 

"Inverts?" John asked, confused. 

"Sure, that's a way to say it. So these men are real desperate. They'd pay real good money to have...some time with another man. 'Specially a young, good looking one." Arthur smiled as he complimented himself but then frowned. "I happen to enjoy bedding with other men. I like women too, I just like men more." He shrugged. "And these guys will pay me sometimes a hundred dollars just to touch 'em so.."

"So you're a whore?" John laughed and Arthur kicked at his shin. "Ouch!" He giggled. "Wait, are you on top ot the bottom?" 

Arthur looked confused. "How do you mean?"

"Are you the one giving or getting it?" 

"Usually I'm getting it. Don't mean I'm on the bottom, though." 

John raised a brow. "How is that even possible?" Arthur sat up and kicked at his sheets to move them off of him. 

"Like this," Arthur straddled John's hips "I just get on this way and bounce on it." 

John's breath hitched. His hands froze at his sides but wanting to grasp at Arthur's firm hips and thighs. He stared at their touching pelvises. "Uh- Arthur?" 

Arthur had been trying to explain the whole position to John, he hadn't realized until John squeaked out his name that John had become very hard beneath Arthur. Arthur felt John's hardness poke upwards against the cleft of his ass. Arthur's eyes widened and he scrambled off of John. "Sorry!" He yelped. 

"I'm sorry!" John squeaked again. He covered his clothed erection with his hands. "Arthur I didn't mean to it's just that you were-" 

"It's- it's fine!" Arthur cleared his throat. "I'mma go outside and you can uh," Arthur looked anywhere but at John, "you do something. I shouldn't have done that, I was just trying to explain- you know what? Doesn't matter. I'mma go." He laughed nervously before hurrying out of the tent. 

John groaned and imagined if Arthur would've stayed, if he would've liked John, John would've had Arthur bouncing on him like he was talking about.

____________________________________________________________

Arthur was as red as a tomato, how could he have been so stupid? John's a teenager! Of course he'd react that way. Arthur wandered towards the trees near the trail, he sat down. He could wait while John got rid of his...problem. 

The outlaw took a deep breath, he pulled his knees up to his chest. John was still a kid, it didn't matter if Arthur was only 4 years older, Arthur was an adult and John was a teenager. Arthur looked down to his crotch, he had gotten aroused at the feeling of John pressed against him. Arthur cursed himself. He stared off in the distance. John is still a kid; he reminded himself. 

He heard the hard thundering of horses, and the creaks of a wagon. He looked down the path and saw a man, maybe another in the back, with a small wagon being pulled by 2 horses. Arthur searched for his pistol, he had it in his holster - good. He's prepared for anything. 

"Hey there!" the voice called as the wagon pulled to a stop. Arthur stood up hastily. "You camping 'round here?" 

"Yes sir." Arthur responded in a deep and gruff voice. The man looked...familiar. "There's more places to camp around here though, sir." 

"Hey," the man drawled "you look like someone I know." 

"I have one of those faces." Arthur shrugged. 

"You Albert?" The man asked excitedly. Arthur's eyes widened, he realized that this was one of his "clients". He didn't ever get his name, he hardly did when things were fast and to the point. 

"Uh, yeah." Arthur shrugged again. 

"You lookin' to make some good money?" The man stopped the wagon completely, another man from the back of the wagon poked his head out. "If we can both take you at the same time, we'll give you two hundred." 

"At the same time?" Arthur asked confused. 

"Yeah, I'll fuck your pretty round ass, and my friend here will take your mouth." The man got off the wagon. 

"Listen, sir, I ain't working right now." Arthur shook his head. 

The man snickered. "If you don't, I'll make sure you never work again." 

Arthur flared his nostrils, standing as tall as he could compared to the man. "Oh really?" Arthur snickered. "Who do you think you are?" 

"I'm Colm O' -fucking- Driscoll." Colm pulled out a knife and pressed it against Arthur's throat. "And you're gonna bend over and let me fuck you right now." 

Arthur glared. Fuck. He had let Colm O' Driscoll be one of his clients. Dutch will be fucking fuming. But it's not like Dutch had a picture of Colm to show them. Arthur didn't know. 

"Arthur!" He heard John call from afar. Arthur cursed under his breath. 

"Arthur?" Colm sneered and pulled away slightly. "Arthur Morgan?" 

Arthur reached for his pistol and quickly put a bullet in Colm's foot. The man yelled. Arthur sprinted towards John. "Run! Run, Marston!" 

He saw a figure in front of him start sprinting into the woods, Arthur followed in close pursuit. He spotted a cave near some rocks to the side. He sped up and grabbed John who yelped. "Hey-!" John hissed but Arthur shushed him and pulled him into the cave. 

They stayed quiet and still in the cave. Sitting next to each other and waiting to see if Colm found them. After a few minutes of nothing, John turned to see Arthur. His blue eyes bright, reflecting the moonlight. "I think we're okay." Arthur muttered, noticing John's gaze. 

"I heard O'Driscoll...Dutch said they were our enemies." John explained why he left the tent. 

"Yeah, they are but, John." Arthur groaned. "If it's just you and me, and something like that happens, I need you to stay in the tent. If they don't know you're there let them just focus on me."

"I can handle myself." 

"I'm sure you can but if anything does happen to you John, under MY watch, I couldn't...I couldn't live with that. You're like my brother." 

"I thought you didn't like me." 

"I don't. But you're growing on me." Arthur laughed softly. John leaned against Arthur's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry I made things strange." John mumbled. "I don't want to be your brother I want..." John left it unsaid, but Arthur understood. 

"Come back to me when you're 19." Arthur smiled. "You're too young for me." 

"We're only 4 years apart!" John whined.

"Then if that's not long, you can wait 4 years to try whatever this might be." Arthur laughed. 

John chuckled and they sat there, gently falling asleep against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No editing cuz i wanna post this already lmao
> 
> No underage stuff for arthur 😎 hes a good guy


	7. Chapter 7

They stayed in the cave until morning. They had fallen asleep on each other, and when Arthur blinked his eyes open to the glare of the morning sun he realized how cute John looked asleep. His black hair flowing over his face and his facial hair barely poking its way out of his skin. His scarce mustache made Arthur chuckle. John was sweet, though a bit annoying, but Arthur couldn't imagine himself being with John. Not now, at least. For one, John was only 15. Despite Arthur only being 19, Arthur deeply disliked that John was a teenager and him an adult. 

Then there was Dutch. What would Dutch say? More importantly, could Arthur leave behind his feelings for Dutch? Oh how Arthur longed for the bliss of being asleep and not thinking. 

He looked to his side at John again, he was stirring awake now. "Morning." John yawned and eased off of Arthur. 

"Hey," Arthur responded, "you sleep okay?" 

"Sure." John stretched. "Is that O' Driscoll still around?" 

"Nah, he's gone by now." Arthur stood up. "We should probably head back to our campsite. Maybe find some deer for you to shoot down, then ride back to camp."

John nodded and Arthur watched as stood up in a bit of a rush. John patted himself down and followed Arthur back through the woods. Arthur tried finding their way back by the trail of prints and broken leaves and branches he and John made running for the cave. As they walked, John began to ask questions in his John-manner.

"So why did the O' Driscoll stop to talk to you? Did he recognize you?'"

"Probably. He just got off and started talking smack." Arthur shrugged, focused on the trail. 

"But why didn't he just kill you?" 

Arthur laughed. "You wanted him to?" 

"Nome." John shook his head. "Just wondering why he didn't come shooting."

"Do I look like I know?" Arthur snorted. "Try looking for him if you want and ask him yourself." 

"I'm good here." John mumbled. 

Arthur finally led them back to their tent. They gathered their things, luckily someone didn't steal them. Arthur whistled for their horses and watched as Zeke and Rachel trotted over to them. Arthur grabbed his rifle and handed it to John. "There's some deer out over there." Arthur pointed across the path at a dip of land with bunches of grass. Some white tail deer grazing. John nodded and headed off, hunched over and with a careful step. Arthur watched from afar, lasso at hand and mounted on Zeke. 

John lifted the rifle up and was still for a moment before firing. He hit a deer right in the head. Arthur whooped proudly and led Rachel to John who was already skinning the deer. 

"Next time don't skin her yet." Arthur said while John put the skin and deer on Rachel. 

"Why not?" John huffed while he mounted Rachel. 

"If you're just gonna put the body on your horse, might as well keep your horse clean and just skin her at camp." Arthur explained, John nodded and thanked Arthur for the advice. 

"You goin' catch somethin'?" 

"Nah, you can have the spotlight." Arthur grinned. "Best make some good story up." He kicked Zeke into a trot, John followed. 

"So getting a headshot of a grazing deer on the first try, ain't good enough?" 

"Nah, make it sound better. Maybe something like you were chasing the herd on top of Rachel and you got a headshot with the first shot. On horseback is more impressive." 

"You ever done that?" 

"Sure, but not with deer. I usually lasso them and stab 'em to make sure the pelt isn't damaged. Bigger animals is when I do headshots." 

John nodded, his face focused as if trying to remember all the tips Arthur was giving him. "Why do you care about the pelt?" He asked. 

"You can sell 'em if they're good enough, or Pearson can make you a nice satchel." He patted his own satchel, the best of them all. "I can carry a lot in this baby. Took me a while to hunt down everything I needed for it, but it was worth it." 

"Think I can have Pearson make one for me?" John asked in awe, staring at the wonderful satchel. 

"If you hunt what he needs for it." 

"I will."  
They both smiled

______________________________________________________________

The ride back to camp was quiet. John was focused on remembering everything Arthur told him, every once in a while Arthur would hear him mumble the tips back to himself in attempts to memorize them.

When they did return to the safety of their camp, John made sure to boast about his first camp kill. Pearson whistled at the fine pelt, "Great job, kid!" he had said as he heaved the deer onto his table. Susan handed John and Arthur a cup of coffee, and Annabelle had carefully congratulated John without making eye contact with Arthur. Arthur was still feeling strange with Annabelle avoiding him but still, somehow, managing to glare daggers at him. Such that Arthur could feel her wrath. How strange it was to have heard her thanking him only a few days ago, and now she loathed him. To be fair, Arthur had Dutch before her. She had "stolen" Dutch from him. But then again, was Dutch ever his? No. Dutch belonged to no one person; Arthur understood that when he was 17 and Dutch had started seeing Susan. Arthur had been so upset, he had yelled at Dutch on their hunting trip until Dutch shoved him into the floor and fucked into him. 

"I ain't yours, -boy-." Dutch had hissed into his ear as he snapped his hips back and forth into Arthur. "But you are mine." 

Arthur left John to be praised by the camp members and headed to Dutch's tent. He was writing something down in his journal. "Hey there," Arthur greeted, "I took John out hunting. I'm sure Hosea told you." Dutch didn't look up from his journal, he kept writing, but he did grunt in response. Arthur looked him up and down, "Alright." he huffed. "You got something you wanna tell me, Dutch?" 

"No," Dutch closed the journal, "just thinking." 

Arthur sighed. "About?" he went to sit next to him. 

"We need more money, Arthur." His eyes locked with Arthur's. "I don't know what to do. Worst is, I was so into the idea of bring John in the camp I didn't think that he's also one more mouth to feed." Arthur frowned and inched his hand onto Dutch's thigh in a comforting manner.

"You'll figure it out, Dutch. You always do." Arthur watched as a smile crept onto Dutch's lips. A swell of pride filled Arthur's chest. 

"I suppose you're right, son." Dutch set his journal down onto his drawer. "I just get overwhelmed sometimes. I want this camp to grow, but there's not enough money to provide for all of us and head west."

"Maybe you need to make a system? Have everyone bring in a certain amount of money each week or day. We've got a lot of freeloaders, Dutch." 

"Sure," he pursed his lips, "but how do we keep track of that?"

Arthur shrugged. "I ain't that smart, Dutch." Dutch laughed and Arthur inched his hand up and down Dutch's thigh. "I do know how to help you relax, though." 

Dutch grinned and grasped Arthur's hand. "Later tonight, okay? I'm still on edge about Annabelle." 

Arthur nodded and stood up. "Alright, I'll talk to you later then. I'll leave you to your thinking."

__________________________

Arthur was drawing a familiar face in his journal when he first heard it. A loud smack followed by yelling. Arthur set his journal down and headed towards the commotion, as did many campers. What they found was Hosea and Dutch yelling their lungs out. Dutch's right cheek tinted red. 

"We are supposed to help the poor!"

"Hosea, listen to me - will you?! We are losing money faster than we can give it!" Dutch roared, the veins in his neck bulging. Hosea was glaring daggers at Dutch. 

John scurried over to Arthur. "What's going on?" He said in a hushed whisper to which Arthur shrugged. 

"So you want to get a loanshark in the camp?" Hosea hissed, his tone filled with judgement and disbelief. 

"We've given so much Hosea, when is it our turn to get something?" Dutch began to plead, Arthur recognized this tone as one of his manipulative ways to convince someone to do what he wants. A tone that's sounds so much like pleading that it makes what he's saying seem logical. 

Hosea was shaking his head when he noticed the crowd of campers watching them. "What're you all looking at?" Hosea snapped. 

"We're just concerned as to why our leaders are arguing." Annabelle spoke up, initiating a tumultuous response from the camp members.

Arthur sighed and stepped forward, turning to face the crowd, standing between them and his fathers. "Now, listen up folk." They all quieted. "Times are changing." Arthur stood with his chest puffed out and his hands at his hips. "We're beginning to see a day and age where we're more ghosts than people. Some people just don't want us around anymore, we're a smudge in their perfect picture - understand?" Some people nodded. "Now, this means we have to change too. Dutch and Hosea are just figuring out the best way to do that. Aren't you?" Arthur turned with a smile to Dutch and Hosea.

"Arthur, you took the words out of my mouth." Dutch said with a grin, he was proud. Hosea even looked more relaxed as he nodded.

"Arthur is right." Hosea said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Dutch and I will speak more civilly from now on, and don't you all worry - we WILL figure this out." 

Dutch stepped forward and patted Arthur's shoulder, holding it for a second before walking back to his tent with Hosea in tow. The crowd began to disband, leaving only John and Arthur. "You're good at that." John pointed out. 

"At what?" Arthur said with a quiet scoff.

"Getting people to calm down, I guess." John shrugged. "Do you think Dutch will figure out what he and Hosea were fighting about? What WERE they fighting about?" 

Arthur pursed his lips, he signaled for John to follow him as he walked slowly towards the river nearby. "You're new, so you don't know much but we're good people. Dutch always says, 'We save people who need saving. Shoot people who need shooting. And feed people who need feeding.'." Arthur took a breath, his eyes darting to the water. "We usually steal from the rich folk, and hand the money over to the poor. But since the Law is getting more pushy on us, we can't steal as much - meaning we can't give as much. 'Cause if we do, we don't eat and we don't head farther West. I guess it's getting real bad now, and Dutch wants to start taking from everyone - rich or poor." 

Arthur pulled his boots off. He needed a swim, he needed to just settle in the water and let the slow tide move him gently. As he wished his thoughts would move. John watched him patiently as he stripped down to his union suit. After a bit, John finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "So, are we the bad guys?" 

"No." Arthur answered as he took the union suit off. "We just have new priorities. Or at least we will, if Dutch convinces Hosea." 

"Does he have to convince Hosea?" 

"Maybe not. Hosea's not as into the whole camp thing as Dutch is. If Dutch says we turn left, we turn left. Maybe Hosea is right about turning right, but at that point Hosea's the one who needs to do the convincing." 

"And you? What do you do?" 

Arthur stared at John for a second, almost offended by the question. Moreso because no one has ever really had the balls to ask him. "I back up Dutch. I protect the camp. And I make sure you all don't kill each other." Satisfied with his answer, Arthur stepped into the water and headed to the deeper area. He was about to relax when he realized John was just standing there, watching him. "You need something?" 

"I don't know how to swim." John said in a quiet voice, Arthur almost didn't hear him. Arthur laughed. 

"Do you need a bath soon?" 

"I do stink." 

"I'll take you to get a bath tomorrow in town." 

"Why don't you teach me how to swim?" 

Arthur smirked. "To know how to swim you gotta start off when you're a baby, like the fish. If you don't, you grow up all adapted to living without that knowledge. You can't teach a bird how to swim, now can you?" 

John glared but stayed quiet before walking away without a word. Arthur enjoyed his swim.


	8. Chapter 8

The night had fallen over the camp and everyone had settled into their tents. Arthur noticed John had to sleep in Pearson's tent, he felt bad -- the stench must be awful. Their camp was set up in a cramped way, it wasn't like there were a lot of campers but Dutch liked to keep them all close together. Besides, since there wasn't a whole lot of them it was easy to gather each tent around the campfire. Hosea, Dutch, and Arthur got their own tents while Susan and Annabelle shared one (when Annabelle wasn't with Dutch) and -now- Pearson and John shared another. 

Arthur closed the flaps of his tent, it wasn't too late yet and he did want to go see Dutch but he wanted to look through his journal first. Hearing Dutch and Hosea argue over the new morals of the gang forced Arthur to remember old times. 

Arthur had just turned sixteen, the year was 1887 when they robbed their first major bank. Arthur hadn't yet begun his "experiences" with Dutch, and after two years of riding with Dutch and Hosea -- Arthur had begun to see them like his fathers. Sure, Hosea was frequently away to be with his fiance Bessie; but they were still much like a family. Some times, Arthur would imagine what it would be like if maybe Hosea was a woman and in love with Dutch. Maybe - in the very dark corners of Arthur's mind - he would imagine this to allow himself to believe he could be adopted by them. Be raised by these two wonderfully unlawful people who wanted the same thing Arthur did -- peace. 

The three of them had done small things before, sneak into the rich houses and run off with some cash or valuable items only to slip them into the hands of the poor. But this time, Arthur had never seen Dutch and Hosea work so hard. They planned everything so delicately, even the time of the day. At 2 O'Clock, Arthur was busting into the Bank of Lee and Hoyt; his pistols raised by each arm and pointed firmly at the small crowd inside the bank. Meanwhile, Hosea was perched on the rooftop opposite the bank -- ready for the law. Dutch was following Arthur close behind and ensured the doors were shut closed and the people in the bank weren't going to do anything silly as Arthur filled their satchels with gold. 

That day, they got away with $5000 in gold and a new target on their heads, one bigger than ever before. The following weeks, they made so many poor families ecstatic with piles of cash and new beginnings. 

Arthur stared at the faded writing of that day, how long had it been since they did anything like that? He turned the page to one covered in tears stains. His body went still. 

He remembered writing the passage with a shaky hand. Arthur only ever cries in specific occasions -- when someone he loves dies, and when he's hurt by someone he adores. In this occasion, someone he loves so dearly hurt him.

The night they finished handing out all of the money they had robbed, Hosea had turned in to bed early and Dutch kept Arthur talking around the campfire. He was so excited and happy that all he could do was drink, and grin, and talk. All Arthur could and wanted to do was listen. At some point, Dutch's expression became somber. "We ain't got any money left for us," he slurred, "which is what Hosea wanted. What I wanted -- but now maybe not." 

"What do you mean, Dutch?" Arthur remembers asking. 

"Maybe we should've kept some. Hell, Arthur, moving West ain't cheap. Now we got the law after us and we're out of money when we could've been sitting on five thousand dollars." Dutch smashed his empty whiskey bottle into the fire and Arthur stared at the glass sparkle as it melted away. 

" 'm sorry, Dutch." That was all Arthur could think to say. He was only sixteen years old and he was tired and drowsy and confused. Arthur was still watching the fire when he heard Dutch whisper something. "What?" Arthur asked him to say it again, he looked at the older man now. 

"Hush." Dutch hissed quietly. "Come on," Dutch stood up and started for his tent, when Arthur didn't move he rolled his eyes and said, "hurry." 

Arthur stood up and followed Dutch into his tent. 

He shut the journal closed. He didn't want to remember this. There was an itch to reopen the journal and rip out the contents of it, toss them in the campfire and watch it melt away. Maybe then Arthur would forget. He set the journal down and sighed, no -- he couldn't. He would never be able to forget no matter how many times he wrote it down and burned it to ash; it would never go away. 

Arthur didn't visit Dutch that night, he would deal with Dutch's attitude for not going to see him happily as long as it meant Arthur didn't have to see him tonight. 

\---------------

Arthur startled awake when a heavy weight came down on him. "MORNING!" A squeaky voice yelled. Arthur groaned and tossed the weight off of him and on the floor. He heard a loud "oof". He rubbed at his eyes before glaring promptly at John who was grinning ear to ear. "You taking me into town again?" He asked, ignoring Arthur's foul mood. 

"You think-" Arthur wheezed, "you think I'mma do anything for you after this?" 

"Yeup." John said with a shit-eating grin. "Besides, Annabelle told me there's gonna be a horse show this afternoon in Blackwater." 

Arthur sat up with a grunt, keeping his glare on John as he changed his shirt for his silky smooth black shirt he really really liked. "And?" Arthur mumbled as he buttoned it up and slipped on a red and black vest with swirly patterns. 

"And," John pushed, "those horses are pure-bred. Meaning that they'll go for a ton of cash at a horse fence I know of down by Strawberry run by some guy named Thomas. He's so desperate for business, he'll buy any horse even without papers." 

Arthur raised a brow in interest. "You have that all planned out already?" 

"Yessir." John watched as Arthur changed his blue jeans for black ones. 

"And how will we be stealing these horses?" Arthur asked, a bit annoyed that John was already getting ahead with jobs and Arthur hadn't gotten any tips yet. John had only been here for a few days and he was already getting work. 

"I don't know about that yet," John frowned and Arthur smiled, "but we can figure it out when we get there." Arthur nodded and slipped on his black boots. 

"Fair. You gonna take your bath before, or after the job?" Arthur teased. 

"Before," John sighed, "I reek." 

"On that, we agree."

-

Before they left, Arthur made sure to catch Dutch and Hosea together to let them know the plan. He didn't want to see Dutch alone, knowing he'd have to explain his absence last night to Dutch and Arthur really just wanted to get the day over with. Hosea happily congratulated John on planning the whole job out and Dutch wished then good luck. 

The two if them rode off into town and hitched their horses in front of the hotel. "You got any cash?" Arthur asked John, who responded with a shake if his head 'no'. "Here," Arthur handed John a dollar, "talk to the front desk. The bath should cost fifty cents so I want fifty cents when you come back out here. No 'special' treatment bath, ya'hear?" John nodded, 'yes'. 

Arthur watched John jog into the hotel before sitting down on a bench outside to clean his weapons. He was startled for the second time that day when he heard a familiar voice greet him. He looked up to see Mason smiled at him. "Hey." Arthur responded. 

"Can I sit with you?" Mason asked politely, his voice quiet and smooth. Arthur nodded and inched to the side for Mason to sit next to him. "How have you been Albert?" 

"Fine." He shrugged. "How about you?" 

"I've, uh," Mason cleared his throat and Arthur noticed his cheeks flush, "missed you." Arthur chuckled. 

"You ain't so good at flirting, Mister Mason." Arthur looked back down at his shotgun and wiped at the dirt. "We hardly know each other." 

"My apologies." Mason sighed. "Please, call me Mason."

"Sure." 

"I just mean, I'm going to be around town fir a few more days before heading back home. I'll be back in about a month, like I told you when we met, but I saw you here and I thought we could --"

"I ain't got time for playing around today, Mason." Arthur interrupted. 

"No," Mason shook his head, "I wanted to talk." 

"Talk? About what?" 

"Just, talk to you." He chuckled. "Believe it or not, Albert, but I've taken a liking to you. Much like what I imagine love at first sight would be like." Arthur laughed, unable to contain it. Mason frowned. "I'm being serious."

"And I am flattered -- really, I am. I must remind you, though, that I am what most people would describe as a whore. I've slept with a lot of men, Mason and --"

"Then I'll pay. Whatever quantity, whatever you want." Mason nearly begged. 

Arthur felt a bit uneasy. "And what, exactly, do you want?" Arthur asked carefully. 

"A date -- dinner in my home! An evening and a chance to woo you. I'll pay you good money, and all I ask of you is your honesty and your time. If you leave without feeling anything new for me -- I will only ever bother you for sex; but if you feel even an ounce of romantic feelings for me then you must tell me and give me a chance to make you fall in love with me." Arthur raised a brow, glad that Mason was speaking quietly but he could tell how much Mason wished to shout every last word. He also noticed the gold pocket watch the man carried loosely in his pocket as if it didn't matter. And the expensive clothes he wore. This man has money.

"Alright," Arthur said tentatively -- a little surprised he agreed, "sure. Meet me in Strawberry, outside the bar sometime in the evening. You know where Strawberry is?" 

"I do." Mason said with a smile. "Thank you so much Albert." 

"It's Arthur -"

Before he could finish, the hotel door swung open with a loud creaking sound and John turned to face Arthur. "I'm ready, Morgan." Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up. "Who's this?" 

"Nobody. Let's go. See ya later, Mason."

Mason had a wide grin on his face. "Until later, Arthur Morgan." He said it as if he had solved the greatest mystery in the country. Arthur chuckled and shook his head. 

"Come on, Marston."

-

As the two walked down the street towards the supposed "reserved area" for the horse show, Arthur noticed John giving him a strange look. "What." Arthur nearly snarled. 

"What was with that Mason fellow?" 

"He's a client," Arthur explained, "I'm supposed to meet up with him in Strawberry." 

"How much is he paying ya?" 

"A lot, I'm sure. Last time he paid me eighty dollars for the services in a shed. Apparently, this time, he wants a full on dinner and show in his damn home. I can tell he's one of the rich ones, so maybe about a hundred." Arthur reasoned. 

"A dinner? He must be really lonely." 

"He ain't too good with words -- so I'm sure you're right. Look," Arthur pointed towards a group of five men in expensive looking clothing, "they look like the type to have really good horses?" 

"Sure do." John smiled. 

"So what's the plan?" Arthur asked John with a raised brow, he wasn't expecting a full answer and he didn't get one either. 

"I ain't too sure." John flushed. "I, ah, damn." Arthur noticed John's eyebrows furrowed into a crease at the bridge of his nose and his fingers were twitching. For a second, Arthur thought the boy looked pale enough to pass out, the blush fading quickly away. "I didn't really think this through. You think there's law? If they catch us --" 

"Hey, hey, now. Calm down, John." Arthur pulled John closer to the alley for a breath. "It's alright. It's your first job, don't get so worked up. Listen, our best plan is to wait until the show's over and the riders are either heading in for a beer or out of town. That way, no one is paying any attention to the horses anymore since the show's over. With the riders distracted or isolated, it'll be an easy steal. Looks like there's five horses so we'll have to cut our losses and each take two, one lassoed and riding the other." 

John nodded. "Makes sense." He mumbled. 

"Good, good." Arthur sighed, he hadn't noticed he had been half hugging John -- he let go. "Now," he smiled, "Let's enjoy the show yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

\--

The horses are gorgeous, Arthur had never seen any horse like them except for maybe Dutch's. The show didn't take very long, the riders kept the horses at a trot and made two cycles around the town before heading out. Once John and Arthur spotted them leaving town on their horses, they whistled for Rachel and Zeke and followed the riders at a distance. They could hear them laughing and talking, probably about their luxurious lifestyles. 

Arthur turned to see John, the boy looked nervous. Arthur knew this would be a difficult task but he wanted John to have a good first job. No matter how jealous he was. Arthur signaled for John to get ready, there were no possible witnesses and they were far from town already. The riders were set up by twos leaving one rider trailing behind. Arthur grabbed a throwing knife, if he knew how to pray he'd pray for whatever god to help stick the landing, he aimed and flicked his wrist -- the knife landed perfectly into the rider's skull. Arthur and John watched as he leaned forward with his dead weight. 

John looked at Arthur with a look of amazement and wonder. Since the riders were at a trot and very distracted, Arthur was able to get off Zeke and jog over to the trailing horse with a now very dead rider, pushed the rider off and mount the horse before giving it a carrot. Arthur took a deep breath, he wasn't sure how to take it from here. He could try for two more head shots at the same time -- impossible. Maybe just start shooting? Or could he threaten the four of them? No, they would act as if they had the upper hand. Arthur pulled up his mask and signaled John to do the same. Four against two? They would think too much of themselves, but with two left maybe not. Arthur armed himself with two guns -- his revolver and his pistol -- he aimed at the two riders ahead of him and shot in unison. Their heads split open and the horses bucked in fear. Arthur quickly slipped his guns back into his holsters and grabbed his lasso to catch the horse to his left, John swiftly did the same to the horse on the right as the riders slid off to the floor. 

The two riders way up ahead began cussing and reaching for their guns, Arthur and John were already pointing theirs at them. "Get off the horses, stay quiet, and we'll let you live." Arthur said in a low growl. 

"That was my brother." Hissed one of the riders. 

"You wanna join him?" John asked, the sound of his gun clicking made Arthur grin. Thw two riders stayed silent as they dismounted and handed the reigns to John and Arthur. John mounted on of the horses and kept the other on a lasso. They left one to the remaining riders and rode off quickly with a final whistle to have Rachel and Zeke follow. 

-  
They didn't speak a word until they reached the outskirts of Strawberry and met with the buyer. "Four pure-bred horses." Arthur had told him. "How much?"

"Five hundred each," the man answered, "here you are." He handed them $2000. 

John and Arthur were each on their own horse now, staring at the fat wads of cash. 

"I can't believe we got away with that." John finally mumbled. Arthur laughed and nearly whooped as he hit John's shoulder playfully. 

"You did amazing, John, good work!" 

"It was mostly you." John said sheepishly, Arthur only shook his head in return and handed John the money. 

"Take that with you back to camp, tell Dutch all about it. Make sure to at least keep five hundred as your share." Arthur instructed. 

"You ain't comin'?" 

"Nope," Arthur shook his head, "I gotta meet with that client from earlier. Good work though, John, I'm proud of you. Really held your own." 

"Thanks." John smiled. "Well, uh, see ya then." John shoved the money into his small satchel and waved goodbye to Arthur before heading back to camp. Arthur only sighed and kicked Zeke into a trot towards the bar. 

\--

He had downed about four glasses of whiskey by the time Mason prodded his shoulder.

Arthur noticed Mason's hair was freshly cut and his stubble was gone, leaving a clean shaven face a nice look to his face. "Hello, Arthur." 

"Hey." Arthur stood up. "Let's get going then." Mason nodded and led Arthur outside, they got on their horses and Arthur followed Mason down the road and out of Strawberry. 

"Could I ask you a question?" 

"Sure." Arthur drawled. They were pretty far from the town now and were heading a bit North. 

"You and your friend, John?-" Arthur nodded. "You both were the ones who stole the horses, weren't you?"

Arthur raised a brow. "How'd the hell you know?"

"Woah, now. No need to get defensive. I simply put two and two together. You already act like quite the criminal," they both chuckled, "when you both headed off to prepare for something and then weren't seen at all after the show only for two riders to return to Blackwater on one horse and sobbing - I realized you must've been the ones to get away with the other four."

"We did." Arthur shrugged, not caring to defend his innocence. 

"Killing three men?" Mason asked quietly. 

"I've killed more for less." Arthur answered, matching his tone. They were both quiet for a good time, Arthur hoped he even scared Mason off a bit. This whole situation was insane. 

Finally, after about ten minutes of quiet, Mason said: "Well they were pricks anyway." 

Arthur glanced over at the raven haired man, his face was stern and pensive. "That's a way to think about it." Arthur chuckled. 

So many times had Arthur spent trying to think of ways to justify murder. Murder of all folk. He would wonder if they too were awful. Maybe he was blasting off the head of a rapist. Maybe he was piercing the stomach of a cheater. Maybe. With so many deaths, Arthur could only wonder how many good men he had killed and how many were truly bad. The only thing he knew was real was the gang, and the places they called home. And as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, Arthur could only wonder to what place he'd end up this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the dinner date 😤👏🏼👏🏼 I hope you all enjoyed, and that it wasn't too long or boring. I kind of like the Mason character, but I don't know if I wanna keep him for too long. Who knows. 
> 
> Also Dutch must be pissed that Arthur's avoiding him 😮🤠


	9. Chapter 9

Mason's house was hidden behind trees, it nerved Arthur that this man could easily trap him and the camp wouldn't be able to track Arthur down but he didn't think Mason had that planned. Hell, the man had figured out that Arthur was some sort of hard core criminal and still seemed to want to be with him. They hitched their horses outside the house, which --now that Arthur was up close-- became increasingly more impressive. Large and clean and detailed in it's architecture; the house stood proudly on its grounds. 

Mason led Arthur inside, he briefly mentioned how he had told his cook and maid to take the day off to be with their families so Arthur didn't have to be worried about sneaking around. Mason also mentioned that he lived alone, "My parents have passed and my sister -- the poor thing -- died last year. She was very ill." 

" 'M sorry 'bout that." Arthur mumbled awkwardly. 

Mason shook his head dismissively. Deciding he was done with that conversation, he led Arthur to the dining room. "I had my cook prepare us something. I would've if I had the time but I had to run an errand before I came to get you." 

"Busy man." Arthur pointed out before taking a seat. Mason had sat down at one of the ends of the table where a plate was set so Arthur sat adjacent to him where the second plate was. "What do you work in?" 

"I don't work, not really." He sighed, as if not working were a burden. "My father was James Bonsack." Arthur shot Mason a confused look, to which Mason returned a surprised one. "The inventor of The Bonsack machine?" He waited for some sort of 'aha' moment from Arthur but none came.

"I have no clue as to what you mean." Arthur finally said when Mason only continued to stare at him in shock. 

"The - the machine! The one that can roll two hundred-ten cigarette per minute! Surely, you've heard of it?" 

For effect, Arthur grabbed the fork closest to him and stabbed at the meat in front of him. He lifted it and shoved it in his mouth and chewed. "Naw," Arthur shook his head and sniffed, "never heard of 'im." 

"Well," Mason laughed, "that's quite strange. Not bad, just new." 

"So yer name is Mason Bonsack?" Arthur asked. 

"Yes, Mason Morgan sounds far catchier though." Mason's shy smile turned into a grin when Arthur nearly choked on the meat he was eating. "Pardon me, are you okay? I didn't mean to be so forward." Mason said, suddenly standing to make sure Arthur was alright. 

" 'M fine." Arthur waved him off. "Caught me off guard, is all." 

"Well I am supposed to be wooing you." Mason said playfully. 

"Right," Arthur drawled then tsked, "listen, I don't feel right. I know you're supposed to try and make me fall in love with you? Or whatever, but I just don't think that can happen. We've only met twice now and I got a lot of baggage --"

"Arthur, listen to me...I really like you. I don't know quite why...perhaps it's something in your eyes," Mason reached his hand over to hold Arthur's and paused -- searching for the words, "they draw me to you. The rest of you doesn't quite show just how damaged you are as your eyes do. When I look into them, I see someone who's so broken that maybe others would think you're ast fixing."

"Well thanks." Arthur scoffed but laughed. 

Mason shook his head. "You misunderstand. Yes, you're broken Arthur but the thing is...amongst all those cracks and shatters -- only light emerges. Hope and faith and love. It's there behind the walls you've put up. I think the broken part is your exterior, the man who robs and kills, but that light behind that wall? That's you Arthur. And that light is," Mason paused again seemingly at a loss for words, "breathtaking." 

Arthur felt his body go rigid, never had he ever heard such words. A part of him wanted to call bullshit but another part of him wanted to melt into the floor. Is this how women felt when a man would court them? Wait, screw that. Arthur wasn't some maiden in waiting; he was FAR from being someone waiting for a "man" to come and sweep him off his feet. His brows furrowed in thought and Mason's facial expression went to one of hope to one of panic. 

"Calm down." Arthur finally said whilst removing his hand from Mason's gentle hold. "You got a very pretty way of talking, but it ain't fooling me."

______________________________________________________________

"You can't fool me, Dutch." Annabelle said angrily, her hazel eyes piercing holes into Dutch's back. The two of them were in Dutch's tent. After congratulating John on his first ever job, Dutch had immediately gone into prodding as to where Arthur was. John had answered with a shrug, Dutch was upset but couldn't be angry at the boy who just brought two thousand dollars to their camp. Sure, he had John keep five hundred for his work but it was still essentially the camp's money. 

Now, Annabelle had dragged Dutch into his tent and had started with her stories. Upset with Dutch's obsession with Arthur and hus whereabouts. "I don't need to fool you, Annabelle." He answered her with just as much venom as she had spoken to him with. "Besides, why in the hell --" he stopped and lowered his voice "would I sleep with Arthur?" 

"Would you stop denying it?" She said exasperated. "This isn't about whether you did it or not anymore; this is about you stopping. It's me or him."

Dutch turned to face her, his eyebrows creased and his lips curled into a false smile. "You think," he laughed, "-you really think you have the power of holding a choice over me, woman? Over the man who saved your life?" 

"It doesn't matter if you saved my life, Dutch. I'm not going to stand here and let you humiliate me. I don't know what you see in that boy, but I'm not going to let you be indecisive between him and I. If you cannot choose me, and commit to me fully then you do not deserve me." She stood up to leave but stopped when Dutch said -

"Wait, Annabelle, please wait." His voice had calmed and his volume had lowered into that gravelly tone he had that she loved so much. She remembered the night she first heard that voice. Back in the alleyway where she had been cornered by some man, an O'Driscoll.

-

It felt like a blur now, the broad shouldered man had pressed Annabelle against the wall of the bar. His breath stinking of alcohol. She had been doing her rounds in Strawberry, at the fresh age of twenty-two, Annabelle had found the job to be in her favor. Men paid well, some of them performed well, and she was able to avoid pregnancy with her teas. Some people she encountered had asked her why she didn't settle with a man, she was far beyond pretty and could easily make a wealthy man fall at her feet. 

Annabelle had her mothers eyes, blue as the morning sky, and her mothers curves. Her breasts not too busty but not flat either, and her hips were wide. She had always kept clean, especially her blonde hair that she let fall over her shoulders. Sure, sometimes she wouldn't be able to pay for a bath -- but on those days, the stream sufficed. 

Her independence could not prepare her, though, for the fear that racked through her body when the O'Driscoll pressed the end of his pistol to her cheek. She had nearly cried. She would have if she had anything to lose or anyone to say would miss her in that moment. He had been following her, and she had noticed. Men did that all the time and she didn't expect for it to escalate this quickly. She had begged for him to tell her his demands, but the man favored watching her squirm beneath his gaze and gun. 

She was in complete shock up until someone came towards them, another man. "Step away from the lady." The calm and gravelly voice had ordered. She felt relief wash over her when the man stepped away. 

"Who are you?" The O'Driscoll had asked. 

"Someone who doesn't take kindly to men like you." Dutch had spat. The O'Driscoll hurdled toward Dutch but Dutch was faster. He stepped away and soon they were in a brawl. 

Annabelle was preparing for her escape.

______________________________________________________________

When Arthur noticed Mason's almost defeated look, he began to prepare an excuse to leave. The food had been good -- the little he had been able to shovel in -- but Arthur didn't feel like being there. Leading some poor lonely fella on didn't sit right. 

"Arthur, I'm not saying this just to say it." Mason made eye contact with Arthur, locking Arthur's attention. 

"Well then, you're crazy." Arthur chuckled. "Ain't no way you know so much about me just by lookin' at my eyes." 

"And what if it is plausible? Am I wrong with my assumptions?" Mason pushed. 

Arthur let out a long sigh before standing up. "Listen, it's flattering, but love ain't just looking into someone's eyes and finding hope." 

Mason stood up quickly and grabbed hold of Arthur's wrist, firm enough for Arthur to not go but light enough to give Arthur the choice to pull away. "Then tell me what is." 

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in thought. He almost pulled away and left, he didn't have to bother explaining something as complicated as love to this stranger. However, the question had been one Arthur had always avoided. If this sappy stuff Mason was spewing at Arthur isn't love -- then what is? His thoughts gravitated to Dutch and Hosea and Copper. His family who he loved dear. But what about romantic love? The love Mason claimed to suddenly have for Arthur.

"Love." Arthur began, taking pauses to think out his words. "Love is wanting to make someone happy, regardless of how you feel." He thought of Dutch, and the night they first had sex or --rather-- the night Dutch forced Arthur into sex. "Love is growing with a person and sticking by them and their ideas no matter what." 

"That's a strange way to love." Mason mumbled. 

"Well it's how I love." Arthur yanked his arm away from Mason, offended. 

"Sure." Mason sighed. "I suppose we all love differently."  
______________________________________________________________

Before she could run, she noticed her rescuer fall rather harshly onto the floor. She saw his head bounce a bit on the floor and heard his groan of pain. She saw the O'Driscoll readying his knife to stab her hero. Annabelle, as scared as she was, quickly grabbed a empty jug of moonshine lying on the floor near her, lifted it, and slammed it against his head. After the loud thud, he fell sideways into the mud. Dutch stood up slowly with Annabelle's help, and they hurried away from the scene. 

"Thank you," she had said when he mounted his beautiful white horse, "so much." 

"No need. A beauty such as yourself shouldn't have to deal with those simpletons. Do you need a ride home, miss?" His eyes shone along with his charismatic smile. She giggled. 

"I'd love a ride from you, mister, but I don't quite have a home. My mother is dead and my father up and left some time ago. I'm on my own." 

"Not anymore." He said almost quietly, he reached a hand out to her. "I'm Dutch van der Linde."

"Annabelle."  
-  
"Annabelle." Dutch repeated. Annabelle snapped back into reality. She was in the tent with Dutch. He was standing near his bed and she was about to leave but he had stopped her. "I'm sorry."

"For sleeping with Arthur?" She said quietly. 

"Yes. I did...sleep with him." He sighed. "If I'm being completely honest with you, Annabelle, I've been sleeping with Arthur for nearly three years now." Annabelle felt a shudder run through her body. She turned to glare at him.

"Three years?" She hissed. "Arthur -" she gasped "Arthur would've been just sixteen, Dutch." Suddenly her anger wasn't about Dutch cheating, but the disgust that ran through her. Dutch was far older than Arthur. How had their relationship come to be? The open questions made her feel uneasy. 

"He wanted it. We both did." Dutch visibly regretted mentioning how long he had been with Arthur. "It isn't a big deal. It never had been. Just occasional foolin' around."

"If it isn't a big deal, why doesn't the entire camp know? Why is it so hidden?" She pressed.

Dutch became frustrated, she could tell by the frown on his face and his droopy eyes. "Because," he drawled, "it isn't important for people to know. Besides, I love you Annabelle. I want to be with you and I want you to be my woman and if it means so much to you -- I can be your man." He reached for her hand, but Annabelle stepped back. 

"I don't need to be anybody's woman, and I certainly don't need a man." She huffed. 

"Annabelle, please." 

______________________________________________________________

Arthur rolled his eyes, already heading for the door when he heard Mason nearly whimper. "Arthur, please." Arthur slowly turned to face Mason. The man was holding dearly to the chair next to him and was on the verge of tears. "Perhaps..perhaps you are correct. I'm lonely and you have filled a void in me I thought would forever remain empty. So please..." He looked straight into Arthur's eyes. "please stay." 

The outlaw felt his heart clench. Sure, maybe he'd be doing the man more damage than good by staying here but looking at the man fall apart did something to Arthur. It made him realize that not every gay man had the luck to do what Arthur does. Sleep around with men for money with hardly any consequence. Most gay men and women have to live their lives in hiding and fear. Maybe Mason just needed someone after all these years alone. "Will you pay?" Arthur asked coldly, despite his inner thoughts. 

Mason looked almost hurt, but hopeful nonetheless. "Sure," he sighed, "I can do that." 

"Alright then." Arthur approached Mason. "Come here." Mason looked almost shocked when Arthur pulled the smaller man into a hug. Arthur hadn't noticed how much less muscle Mason had than Arthur until now. He felt Mason position himself in Arthur's hold and bury his face into the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur swayed side to side, much like he remembered his mother doing to him when he was younger and crying over how sick she was. "I'm here," Arthur said like his mother had, "I'm not going anywhere soon."

______________________________________________________________

"Dutch, I feel wrong." She explained. "I love you. I do, but knowing what I know now." She shook her head. "I don't know if it can be the same." 

"Then what now?" Dutch asked almost defeated. 

"Now," she sighed, "now we treat each other as friends. I'll stay in my tent and you in yours."

"How? How can you expect me to have you here and not treat you as I always have? As my woman?" Dutch laughed. 

"The same way you did Susan."

"Susan is different, Annabelle. I love you." 

Her heart ached. This conversation ached, she felt torn between wanting to leave and wanting to fix this and lay down with Dutch and snuggle into his chest. "Well, then, I don't know." Despite it all, Annabelle really did love Dutch -- he had been the first person to ever care for her. 

They stood in silence for a good while. "Come here." Dutch offered. Annabelle glanced at the exit but already started walking to Dutch. "Hey," he said quietly, "you're beautiful -- you know that?" 

"I do." She smiled softly, leaning towards his touch when he cradled her cheek. "Don't need you to tell me what I already know, Dutch." 

"You're so independent. So strong." Dutch sighed. "Exactly the reasons why I fell in love with you." 

It was wrong and she knew it. She knew that leaning towards Dutch and kissing him and feeling the scruff of his facial hair against her smooth cheek was wrong. But she craved his touch. It was against everything she taught herself about living alone, but she wanted him with her. Her soft gasp when Dutch slipped his hand onto her breast was enough to spur on a more feverish kiss. 

He led her to his bed, their kiss becoming sloppier while they undressed each other. Soon, Dutch's lips were kissing and nipping as her hard nipples. Her back arched and she felt herself become slick between her thighs when he pressed his two fingers gently yet firmly against her clit. She felt his hard length hit her thigh as he did it. "So beautiful." He would whisper. And she wondered briefly what he would tell Arthur when they had sex. 

The thought erased from her mind quickly after Dutch slid into her. She felt overwhelmed but in the best way. She could no longer think. She could only feel his slow and firm thrusts, and heard the moans slip from her own mouth. 

Maybe they would fight again later, but for now she didn't mind having Dutch pleasure her.

______________________________________________________________

The hug didn't escalate like Arthur expected. "Let's take it slow." Mason had explained when he stopped Arthur from placing kisses on his pale neck. 

Instead of sex, Mason offered to show Arthur around the house. They played a fun game of poker that Arthur won ("This doesn't count as payment." he had said playfully to Mason.) and they doodled away childishly on a piece of paper. They even played tic-tac-toe for a good amount of time. 

Eventually, it became dark and even though Arthur was having a surprisingly good time with Mason -- he decided it was time to go. 

"Stay another hour!" Mason nearly begged, but he was still following Arthur to the door. 

"Naw," Arthur shook his head, "my camp must be waiting to hear from me." 

"Your camp, right." Mason nodded. "Well, when can I see you next?" 

"I'll drop by when I can. When do you leave?" 

"In a month I have to present some innovations to my fathers machine to the cigarette companies that use it. I'll return about a month afterwards, it's a long way and I have quite a lot of places to visit." 

"I'll try next week." 

"Sounds swell." Mason said with a big dopey smile. "Can I kiss you?" He asked shyly. 

Arthur grinned. "Sure." Mason leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto Arthur's chapped lips. He had expected a desperate kiss, but instead it was careful and almost loving. Arthur blushed and cleared his throat when Mason pulled away. 

"Here," Mason took out a few bills, "your payment."

Arthur nearly felt guilty for taking the money. He shoved it in his satchel to count later. "Thanks." He mumbled. "I'll, uh, see you then." 

"Goodbye Arthur." Mason waved Arthur goodbye and watched him as he mounted his horse and rode off. 

Arthur couldn't say he didn't have fun, because he absolutely did. Sure, there were the awkward moments but Mason was a nice fellow. Not someone Arthur would be with seriously, but a nice friend. His thoughts lingered to Dutch as he approached the camp -- hopefully he isn't too pissed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James Bonsack is real but he died until 1924???? I just had him die early (1890) for the sake of the story. Also, idk if he had kids let alone a son and daughter sooooooooooooooo. The only factual stuff here is that James Bonsack is the inventer of this machine that changed cigarette production in 1881(?). Faster production with the machine -- no more individual hand rolling!!!!! 210 cigarette per minute!!!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur returned to camp and was surprised to see everyone in their tents already. Perhaps it was later then he realized, the night had become dark and he supposed he had spent a long while with Mason. Arthur opened the flaps to his tent, only to find Annabelle sitting patiently on a stool near his bed. Arthur stepped in and stood still before her.

"Arthur." She greeted in a quiet tone, she didn't meet his eyes. Arthur felt confused, wasn't she upset with him?

"Everything alright?" Arthur asked carefully.

"No," she sighed finally lifting her eyes to Arthur's, "it's not alright... Dutch told me something -- something awful." Arthur grabbed the second stool and sat down across from her. Her eyes looked lost, he noticed a small tremble in her voice. She was afraid or sad, or both. "He told me that you and him have been...doing things, for a three years." 

Arthur was still, unsure of what to say. "He did." He said, unsure of what to respond. She nodded slowly. 

"You were sixteen, weren't you?" 

"You're good with numbers." He mumbled with a forced laugh. 

"Arthur, Dutch is far older than you. He would have been twenty-six. Did you even know -?"

"Does it matter?" Arthur interrupted, now he couldn't meet Annabelle's sad gaze.

"It does, Arthur it matters so much." She reached for his hand and he allowed her to cradle his larger hand in hers. "I know I'm not much older than you, but you know me Arthur and I'd like to say I know you. I've been running with you for a year, and I'm so sorry for being rude to you when I found out about you and Dutch. I was just upset. I realize now that I shouldn't have been so rude with you. We...we were friends before this." 

Arthur watched her face carefully. He remembered how much they would talk, sure he had always been internally sour with her for taking Dutch's attention -- but Annabelle was sweet. She taught him how to drink tea properly, how to flirt, how to treat a woman with respect, and she was always thankful of Arthur when he protected her. Arthur again wondered how strange it was that things could change so quickly. "We were. We are, if you still want to be."

"Of course I do Arthur," she smiled -- then frowned, "but I need you to answer my question. Did Dutch force you into being with him? When you were sixteen?" 

Arthur gently pulled his hand away from her. "Why is that such a big deal?" 

He heard her sigh and tut. He was about to ask why she was upset (assuming from her tutting) but when he looked back at her eyes he realized she was crying. "Arthur --" she choked down a sob, "I know it's hard. I know." She inhaled deeply. "I know I told you about my mama, and how she killed herself because of my wayward daddy, and my little brother Thomas. But there's more to my story. There's more to everyone than we will ever know. I just...when I was fifteen and Tommy died, and I was on my own," her voice cracked and her eyes wandered, "I was forced into something too. I know how it feels and it never really goes away. It's like an itchy feeling, really. Sometimes you can't stop scratching but other times you don't even notice it. Other times it's too small to bother scratching. Then there's the times when the itch is you, when you just can't stop scratching every part of you because you think you're the problem and you're not." She grabbed Arthur's hand again and locked her eyes with his. "You're not." 

They were quiet. Their eyes locked together. She seemed to be pleading silently for Arthur to understand and to trust her -- but even though Arthur wanted to trust her he couldn't betray Dutch. "I'm sorry Annabelle. I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm not even sure what made you think that he made me..." He gulped and looked at the dirt. "But no, Dutch didn't force me into anything." He lied. He heard her stand up and when he looked up at her she was shaking her head. 

"If I'm being honest? It was the way Dutch told me he didn't force you into anything. No one would really say that unless they were trying to cover up their lie. But it's okay." She said eventually. "It took me a while too." She grasped Arthur's shoulder tightly before leaving the tent and leaving Arthur on his own.

\-----

He hardly slept, he wanted badly to leave camp and sleep out somewhere else but he knew if he left Dutch would be even angrier. So when morning came, Arthur made sure to be away from his tent so that Dutch wouldn't be able to catch him alone. He did everything he could think of, he made himself coffee and drank slowly between bites of a chocolate bar, he chopped some firewood, he even skimmed through some book about dragons. Eventually, though, all he could think to do was sit in front of the campfire and stare off into the distance. 

"You alright?' Came John's scratchy voice. Arthur looked up and frowned. 

"I'm fine."

"Oh." It was awkward but he wasn't sure why. "Dutch was mighty mad when I told him you weren't coming." There it is, Arthur thought. "How did it go?" John sat down beside Arthur so that they could talk quietly. No one else seemed to be awake yet, but just to be careful. 

"It was fine." Arthur shrugged, he reached into his satchel and pulled out the cash Mason had given him and quickly counted it. "Hundred dollars." 

John whistled slowly. "He must really like you." John snorted. 

"Says he loves me." Arthur grumbled.

John stifled a laugh. "Nah," he drawled with a teasing smile, "you sure?" 

"I wouldn't lie about that. I think you were right when you said he seems lonely. He is. I think..." Arthur clicked his tongue in thought, "I think he THINKS he loves me. You know? I reckon that he just realizes it isn't everyday he meets a man that's...into other men...and so he wants to take the opportunity." 

"I reckon you're right." John shrugged while heating up some coffee. 

"You did good," Arthur said suddenly wanting to change the topic, "yesterday with the job."

"Thanks." He smiled. Arthur nodded and they both stayed quiet, at a loss of what to talk about. They were fine not talking though. It was comfortable to sit next to John, and equally for John to sit next to Arthur. Close but not too close and listening to the sounds of the world around them. 

Eventually the world around them was an passive-aggressive Dutch. "Morning John. Arthur." Dutch glared at Arthur and that was Arthur's que to stand to leave. Dutch nearly said something but Arthur was to quick to head to his horse. 

"I'm going hunting for lunch!"

"Can I come?" John asked while Dutch said 

"Who said you could?" 

"No!" Arthur said, acting as if he didn't hear Dutch and mounting Zeke. 

"Arthur!" Dutch called but Arthur was quick enough to kick Zeke into a gallop and leave camp quickly. At the very least, Arthur could say he waited to see Dutch before leaving again, besides Arthur would be back by noon with some deer or turkey. Honestly, after his conversation with Annabelle Arthur didn't want to talk to Dutch. He wanted to get the talk over with, but at the same time -- Arthur was feeling rather annoyed. He was nineteen years old and he didn't need Dutch to be watching him like a hawk, recording his every move. It was stupid. There was smaller part if him, though, that knew the reason why he left in a hurry was because seeing Dutch made his heart tighten as if it were being clenched. He knew his face had gone red of embarrassment and fear. 

His thoughts were everywhere, this whole situation with Dutch was...for a lack of words...confusing. He wanted to be with Dutch, but he wanted to do it right. If Dutch wanted Arthur, then he'd have to commit to Arthur solely. None of this "you're mine but I ain't yours" bullcrap. And for Dutch to stop calling him son, that was just strange. 

He thought briefly of the situation where he would just end this thing with Dutch altogether. Would he be able to? It wasn't just the sex that Arthur enjoyed, hell he didn't like the sex all too much. It was more the feeling of being with Dutch, wanting to please him. He was in love with him, right? That was why he wants to be with Dutch, because he loves him. 

"You alright, mister?" Arthur quickly looked around for who was talking to him, he spotted a man on horseback with what seemed to be his daughter behind him. 

"Y-yeah. Thanks." Arthur saw the man nod and the little girl wave goodbye.

He needed to have some sort of distraction. He wondered what he could do. He could hunt like planned, but he would still be thinking...he needed to not be alone. He supposed he could go see Mason, or walk around town. If he walked around town someone from camp might be there too. He supposed Mason wouldn't mind seeing Arthur earlier than expected. 

He followed the trail to Strawberry and continued on his way from memory. He looked around for landmarks and after a slow ride, he found the house. He looked down at his clothes and frowned, he was a bit dirty. He hopped off his horse and yanked his clothes off, sorting through his saddlebag -- he found a nice black shirt, red leather suspenders and the cleanest pair of black pants he owned. He only had his work boots so those had to do. He combed his fingers through his hair quickly before hitching he horse, then jogging up to the door. He knocked quickly and straightened out his shirt. 

The door opened and a older man wearing a suit stood there looking Arthur up and down. "Bonsack residence. Who are you?" 

"I - uh..." Arthur suddenly felt nervous. "Arthur Morgan. I'm a friend of Mason's." 

The man raised a brow before shutting the door. Arthur sighed and was about to leave when the door opened again. "You can come in. Master Bonsack is upstairs in his quarters. Do you know the way?"

"No."

"Second door to your left."

"Thanks." Arthur stepped inside and moved awkwardly upstairs. He gravitated towards the door he was directed to, luckily the door was open and he could see Mason sketching on a paper. He was seated before a work desk. "Hey." Arthur greeted quietly. 

Mason turned around quickly and smiled. "Hi." He looked Arthur up and down. "You look stunning."

"You..uh...look good too." Arthur motioned to Mason with his hand and the other hooked awkwardly on his belt. Mason was wearing a tight button up, silk, and boxers. Mason laughed. 

"I'm in my pajamas. I wasn't expecting you." Mason stood up. "But I suppose we've both seen each other nude, so there isn't much to be embarrassed about."

"I suppose you're right." He laughed. He watched as Mason approached Arthur slowly. "I came because, well, I didn't know where else to go." 

Mason's went rigid. "So you...came here?" He smiled carefully. 

"Don't get too excited." Arthur chuckled. "I don't have many friends other than my camp."

Mason held Arthur's hand and led him to sit down with him on the edge of the bed. "And you don't want to be at your camp?"

"Dutch is pissed with me." Arthur sighed. "Dutch is like my dad, sort of. He and Hosea picked me up when I was younger. He's upset because I've been avoiding him."

"Why have you been avoiding him?" Arthur shrugged. 

"Long story short I am and he's upset and now..." Arthur's eyes flicked to Mason's lips, "now I'm here."

"So?" Mason grinned. Arthur smirked and leaned in to kiss him. It was slow, and Arthur enjoyed the feeling of the soft bed beneath them. It was a matress, not a cot or a wall like he was used to.

"So," Arthur pushed Mason onto his back on the bed and crawled onto his lap, "lets make something out of it." Arthur pressed another long kiss and tugged at Mason's lower lip, spurring on a moan. 

"Arthur," Mason gasped, "I think we should still wait." 

Arthur stopped and looked at Mason curiously. "We've had sex before. In a shed." He deadpanned. 

"Well, yeah --" Mason blushed and stuttered, "but I want you to be in love with me the next time we have sex. I want...I want to make love with you Arthur, and for that we both need to ve in love." 

With a sigh, Arthur rolled off of Mason. "I don't see that happening, but alright. Can we at least drink?" 

Mason sat up. "Sure." Arthur watched the smaller man walk out the room in a strange waddle, he could see the man's erection and scoffed. 

"Idiot." Arthur mumbled, and he wasn't quite sure if he directed the comment to himself or to Mason. 

______________________________________________________________

"I can't believe Arthur." Dutch said loudly while crushing a cigarette beneath his boot. John watched Dutch carefully as the older man paced back and forth beside the campfire. It had been about an hour since Arthur left, and everyone was awake by now. John had seen Annabelle and Ms. Grimshaw walk out of camp to head to town -- not too long of a walk -- and Pearson was organizing the provisions. He hadn't seen Hosea yet, but he was sure he was reading. 

John cleared his throat. "Maybe he didn't hear you."

"He didn't want to hear me. I don't even know why he's acting this way." Dutch shook his head and dragged his attention to John. "Has he told you anything?" 

John stiffened. He remembered when Arthur told him not to tell anyone about what he did in town with other men. He was sure that Arthur hadn't told Dutch. "Just what he told you, that he was going hunting." 

"So he hasn't told you anything?" Dutch looked at him skeptically. 

"I don't know if you noticed," John shrugged, "but Arthur doesn't like me all that much. I reckon he finds me annoying." 

Dutch seemed to sigh dismissively, thank whatever deity was real because John was sure he believed him. Dutch thanked John quietly and walked away to his tent. 

_____________________________________________________________

They drank far too much. Poker turned into strip poker, and 5 minutes in -- Arthur had Mason naked. Of course, the door was closed. Despite their nudeness, Mason still refused to have sex with Arthur. Arthur wasn't about to force Mason into anything he didn't want, but to say Arthur was annoyed was an understatement. He had needed someone to be close to him that wasn't Dutch desperately, he needed to be cleansed almost. He felt like there was an itch that needed to be scratched and Mason had the scratcher but kept kicking it farther away from Arthur. 

At some point, they ended up on the bed again. Mason had initiated the kiss and they were making out. Slow and heavy kisses on skin was all that was allowed. The occasional hump, but nothing more. The drinks were enough to eventually lull the both of them to sleep. Arthur had an arm wrapped around Mason's waist and Mason had his arm beneath Arthur's neck. It was comfortable, but later when Arthur dreamt -- he dreamt of Dutch again.

He dreamt of the farm, of sheep and horses and cattle. Of his dog Copper running the chickens around and of crops that needed watering. He imagined a large house he built himself, and when he walked into it -- he saw Dutch. Dutch and the smile he wore when he was proud. But when he walked towards Dutch to hug him, everything went dark. Arthur was falling but he could see the bright sky. A wave of water washed over him and he gasped for air when he was able to swim up. He screamed for help until his throat was raw. He felt the world around him tremble and shake and --

"ARTHUR!" his eyes snapped open. He was drenched in sweat and he felt the need to cough. He sat up and saw Mason kneeling in front of him. He felt Mason's firm hold on his shoulders. 

"What?" He croaked, his hand flew to his throat. 

"You were having a nightmare." Mason explained. "I heard you screaming."

Arthur nodded. "Oh, sorry." 

"Are you okay?" Mason sat down next to Arthur and rubbed his back slowly. There was a knock on the door. 

"Is everything alright, Master Mason?" 

"Yes, Richard! My friend had a nightmare." 

"Should I bring tea?" 

"Please!" Mason got up from the bed to put some clothes on. Arthur was going to as well but Mason shook his head. "Stay in bed." He ordered, Arthur didn't have the energy to do anything but. 

When the tea came, Richard had entered the room and handed it directly to Arthur. "Thank you." Arthur mumbled and Richard nodded slowly before walking back out the room. 

Arthur drank the drink carefully like Annabelle had taught him. "What was your dream about?" Mason finally asked. 

"I can't remember." Arthur lied. 

"You were screaming Dutch's name." Mason mentioned. 

"Oh." He shrugged. "Probably since he's upset with me. Maybe I had a dream of him dying."

"Do you want to stay over the night? I don't mind you staying, and I think it would be a good idea -"

"No. I'm going to go home soon." He looked out the window, it was still early, maybe a little past noon. "I'm already late." He stood up and set the empty cup on the table. "Thank you for today. I had fun." 

Mason stood still when Arthur approached him and kissed him gently on the lips. "I had fun too, Arthur. Thank you for thinking of me." He was about to hand Arthur some cash but Arthur shook his head and smiled before leaving.  
____________________

It didn't take long for Arthur to shoot down two turkeys. He always said he was a better shot with alcohol in his system. He hooked the dead birds on the sides of his saddle and headed back to camp. 

___________________

"Well look-y here! Mister Morgan has blessed us with his presence." Dutch said loud enough for everyone to hear. 

"Be quiet, please." Arthur glared. A headache was coming over him. 

"Are you drunk?" Dutch grumbled angrily. Arthur grabbed the turkeys before walking over to Pearson, who seemed to be trying to keep away from inserting himself into Dutch and Arthur's conversation. 

"What if I am?" Arthur drawled, turning away from the table but keeping a hand there to keep him steady. "I shoot better when I - when I -" Arthur closed his mouth to swallow down some puke, then burped, "when I'm drunk." He finished. Surprised he even was able to ride home. 

Dutch sighed. "John is doing better than you and he's only been here a few days."

Arthur laughed. "Oh! So it's money you want from me." Arthur grabbed the cash he had from his satchel and tossed the bills at Dutch. Dutch stepped back, offended. 

"What has gotten into you?! What have I done to make you so angry?" Dutch grabbed Arthur's arm before the younger could walk away. Arthur tried tugging but the hold was too tight.

"I thought you were angry at me." Arthur admitted quietly. 

"Well, I am now." Dutch said with a laugh despite his statement. Arthur started to chuckle. 

"Oh. Well then, I made a mistake." They both started laughing and soon Dutch had pulled Arthur into a hug. Arthur snuggled into Dutch's broad chest, the pressure of Dutch around him made him feel good. He felt warm and fuzzy, much the opposite to drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter! I try to put in as many "life lessons" as i can, dont expect them to be resolved all in one chapter because that would be...unreal... But they will be delved into and resolved throughout the story ✌😎🤠


	11. Chapter 11

"Yes!" Arthur gasped at the sudden thrust. Dutch pressed his palm against Arthur's lips to shush him. After they had laughed off their behavior, Dutch had slipped a note into Arthur's satchel spurring this moment. 

Everyone had gone to bed, and the night had wrapped them in security. So now, Arthur was on his back and his legs were high up in the air, resting on Dutch's shoulders as the older man snapped his hips back and forth into the outlaw.

Arthur had briefly thought about his time with Mason, how desperately he had been wanting the rich-boy to clean him of Dutch but now he was dirtying himself all over again like it was a vice. He thought about Annabelle and how she tried to help him from falling back into Dutch like she had been doing too. Yet here he was. Doing the very thing he knew he didn't want to do; and he didn't even know why. He didn't have to answer to Dutch. He could stay in his tent and let Dutch be angry for a few days before getting over it. He could, but he doesn't. He feels obligated to do it even though there is no force pressuring him. 

Maybe, Arthur let himself think, it's because he knows if it's not him here it's someone else. And Arthur feels like he can't handle not being the center of attention to Dutch. He wants the older man to love him just as much as he does. Whenever Dutch sleeps with someone else, Arthur wonders what he had done wrong to be punished that way -- but it wasn't Arthur's fault at all. Still, he couldn't help but think it. 

Dutch pumped Arthur a few more times before the younger outlaw saw white dots in his vision and could no longer think his intrusive thoughts. He felt the warm spill of Dutch's seed settle inside himself, and the slide of Dutch pulling out. They panted heavily, Dutch stood to get a rag to clean up the mess. 

____________

Arthur was rather chipper the next day, he didn't mind the soreness in his thighs not even when he was chopping wood. He was wearing his blue striped collar shirt and black jeans. He thought about taking a swim later today, too. He had greeted Annabelle before she went with Pearson to town, him to collect some spices and her to do some work for camp. He didn't even get annoyed when John approached him with a goofy smile. 

"Yesterday was funny." John snickered. 

"Yeah, whole big misunderstanding." Arthur shrugged and smiled. He dug into his satchel and pulled out a chocolate bar to hand to John, who took it gratefully. 

"Thanks!" He said cheerfully. "You're in a good mood." He observed as he took a bite of the chocolate. 

"Guess it's just a good day." 

Later that day, after Arthur made a quick trip north to hunt some deer (in which he was successful in collecting a perfect deer pelt) Hosea called Arthur over into Dutch's tent. Arthur noticed Pearson and Annabelle had returned too. 

Arthur took a seat on a small box, Dutch and Hosea doing the same with their own boxes. They formed almost a triangle with Arthur facing Hosea and Dutch. He noticed Dutch clear his throat before pulling out a journal. "We're going to use this," he started, "to mark down who brings in what." 

"And this," Hosea pulled out a small lootbox, "to make sure what's written down is kept in place and used for the camp." 

Arthur nodded. "So how does it work? We just write our names or something?" 

"Exactly." Dutch said with a smile. "Write your name, the amount you put in or the item you give, put the stuff in the box, and walk away." 

"We were hoping you could handle the gang's savings." Hosea was smiling and Dutch was looking at Arthur expectantly. When Arthur only stared in shock Dutch said:

"You are my second-command, and all." 

Arthur nodded vigorously. "I can do that. Do I mark all the numbers in my journal? What do I even do?" 

Hosea laughed at Arthur's anxiousness. "Calm down, son. You'll be fine. Just use the first page in your journal to make sure that, each week, all the money the ledger says we're supposed to have is there and that we're not losing any money. You make sure of that my marking how much we gain each week and adding it up." 

Arthur grunted in understanding. "Okay. I can do that." 

"Of course you can!" Dutch cheered. "See? We're becoming better organized by the day." Dutch stood up and raised his arms in excitement.

"I would hope so." Hosea grumbled, standing up not-so-enthusiastically. Arthur stood up with them and ducked his head as he left the tent. "Oh, and Arthur!" He turned around. "We'll announce the system to the camp tonight around the fire. Let everyone know we have a meeting tonight." Arthur nodded. 

He strode around camp, letting the members know there was news to be shared once the day ended. They all thanked him. He left John for last, because he knew the kid would occupy his time. 

"Howdy, Mr. Morgan."

"Enough with that." Arthur sat next to John who was attempting to write out his alphabet. "You getting any better?" 

"I'm doing alright." He shrugged. "Hosea is a really good teacher."

"He is. Hey, later today Dutch and Hosea got something to tell the camp. New system." Arthur mentioned, John nodded. 

"So what do we do?" 

"When the sun goes down and Dutch starts the campfire, you sit down close to it and wait for him and Hosea to talk." Arthur explained. "Not too hard, is it?" 

"Nah," John chuckled, "seems simple enough. I'm sure I won't screw that up." They both laughed and Arthur caught John staring at him, making the boy blush.

"What?" 

"Nothing! It's just.." he lowered his tone, almost a whisper, "you look pretty when you laugh." Arthur's face went red and he stood up in a hurry. 

"Stupid boy, men ain't pretty --" he grunted and stalked off. "Who think he is, 'pretty when you laugh'," he mocked in a mumble, "he's lucky I don't punch 'im in the damn face -- see if he thinks I'm pretty then--"

_____________

They gathered around, Arthur noticed Pearson trying to sit rather close to Susan; but she shot him a nasty glare so that he would scooch away. Dutch and Hosea were standing, and Annabelle was sitting near Arthur on a log. John plopped down opposite the two camp leaders and Copper laid down on his lap. Arthur and Annabelle shared a smile before returning their attention to Dutch and Hosea. Dutch was smiling quite confidently and Hosea was looking rather pleased, Arthur gathered it was because they were finally making progress with the gang. He heard Dutch clear his throat before speaking. 

"Nice to see you all in one spot." Dutch started. "It is always good to see my family together. Especially," he paused and smiled again despite himself, "when good news is to be shared." He explained the ledger as he had to Arthur. Hosea demonstrated to the camp the book and box and when Dutch announced Arthur would be handling the gang's savings, Hosea motioned for Arthur to stand up. In a hurry, Arthur stood and straightened his hat before tipping it humbly. "Arthur is the best man for the job." Dutch had said, making Arthur's cheeks heat up. Arthur sat back down and felt Annabelle pat his back in congratulations, he nodded thank you to her. Strangely, Dutch's speech did not end there. Hosea even seemed unsure as to why Dutch had not dismissed the gang yet. Dutch scratched the back of his neck but kept his composure. "Additionally," he paused, "I have been talking to a fellow by the name of Leopold Strauss. He is a loanshark." Dutch stopped again, as if testing the waters. Arthur noticed that Hosea's fists were clenched and his eyes were narrowed -- he was pissed. "I've invited him to stay." 

"Dutch!" Hosea shouted. "We did not discuss this." He then hissed. 

"Now," Dutch shook his head, "I believe I am the head of this family, Hosea, and though I respect your opinion very highly--" 

"Well clearly not! Dutch, how could you make such a rash decision when we had already come to a compromise? You have thrown days of talk out the window! Letting a loanshark into the gang is going against everything we once stand for!" Hosea was rambling, Arthur had always wondered what Hosea looked like when he was REALLY mad. He had seen him upset, disappointed, and resentful, but never this angry. 

"Hosea," said slowly, Arthur noticed that the gang was a bit tense, "this is for the best. Now, the law ain't going any easier on us. We'll start slow. I'm just inviting this fellow into the gang to see how the inner works of loansharking is. Don't mean we gotta keep him, don't mean he gotta go." 

"What do you think, Arthur?" Hosea mumbled to keep his head. All eyes were suddenly on Arthur and he tensed. 

"Well, uh." Arthur sighed, he was unsure on who to side with. He knew he would always have Dutch's back, but he truly was on Hosea's side with this one. 'Save people who need saving', and all. Not: 'scam people who don't deserve it'. He stood up again, his eyes darted between Dutch and Hosea. The expressions on their faces each asking him in their own way to have their back. Arthur stared at Dutch. "Dutch once scolded me for stealing from a poor man's house." He began. "I remember our very first robbery. Do you remember that Hosea?" Hosea nodded, Dutch too. "We got away with near five thousand dollars...and we gave it all away. It was easy then, to do that. Now, we got a family to feed just like everybody else." Arthur looked around at the people who surrounded him, Pearson looked uneasy but listening, Susan and Annabelle were smiling and John was looking Arthur dead in the eyes with no other expression on his face. "I wish we could just keep going on like we have been. But now, we gotta make a choice. We can be good and dead, or we can make some sacrifices and survive. We can't try and be both at once, it's one or the other. Hosea has always been a kind man, I have never seen him back down from defending what he believes in -- but I gotta ask you this once." Arthur turns to lock eyes with Hosea. "Let us make some small sacrifices. I know Dutch can be a pain in the you-know-what," Hosea snickered and Arthur smiled, "but he's right. To make sure our people get through to next month, we gotta put ourselves first sometimes, at least."

"Thank you, Arthur." Dutch patted Arthur's back. 

"I think Arthur is becoming better at speeches than you, Dutch. Be careful now." Hosea teased.

"So, we are going to let the sucker in?" Susan asked with a raised brow. 

"For now." Hosea answered, glaring at Dutch. "A trial run. If he dares go one foot out of line, either he goes or I go." 

"You'll never go," Dutch chuckled, "we wouldn't survive without you and you know that." 

"I know." Hosea said with a grin.

_______

They dispersed, Arthur heard some mumbling between Annabelle and Susan but he was sure they wouldn't stir any trouble. Good ol' fashioned chit chat, was what it was. He noticed John lingered even after Dutch, Hosea, and Pearson had gone. "What's wrong with you?" 

"You told me a few days ago that you would always have Dutch's back, even though Hosea would be in the right, you would side with him, no matter what." John pointed out, making Arthur quirk an eyebrow up in curiosity. 

"And?" 

"Was this one of those moments?" John asked, truly concerned. Arthur felt a bit surprised, he hasn't detected this on John's face during his speech. "Is this a moment where you're steering us in the wrong direction, even though there is a right one -- for your own stupid loyalty?" 

"Hey!" Arthur barked angrily. "You listen here boy, loyalty is all we got. Do you understand?"

John didn't answer, he just stared at Arthur in disbelief. Arthur felt his blood rising in anger, watching as John finally lowered his head and scoffed before walking away. For some reason, no matter how hard Arthur tried not to care, getting this reaction from John made his chest feel like it was caving in with shame. 

_______


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur was skipping rocks. He couldn't quite fall asleep after such a busy day. The night had come quickly after everyone had gathered to discuss Mr. Strauss. Arthur tried to convince himself that the endless turning he did while trying to fall asleep was because he was anxious about handling the gang's savings, and not about John. 

The blonde sighed heavily. He watched the world around him, uncaring of his dilemma, and wondered what it would be like to live like nature does. Only pressured by the gusts of wind. He was distracted by the sound of gravel shifting behind him. He turned and saw John. 

"Hey." John said quietly before taking a seat next to Arthur. Arthur stared at him for a short while before collecting himself. 

"You need something?" 

"No." John shook his head, his eyes lingering off in the distance. "I just...don't want to be mad at you. You're the only person I sort of like here." 

Arthur snorted. "You aren't taking kindly to Pearson?" He teased. John laughed and shook his head.

"It seems that Pearson finds me far too much of a nuisance to try and be my friend." 

"I can't blame him." They both laughed, and Arthur caught John staring -- again. "I'm sorry for...uh...shouting at you." Their gazes coincided for a moment before slipping away again. John was smiling, so Arthur smiled back. 

They were quiet again for a moment. "I wasn't lying, y'know." John mumbled. Arthur cocked his head to the side as a response. "About your smile. You look far more attractive when you're laughing." 

Arthur rolled his eyes. "This again?" The words came out in a breath, exasperated but still laughing. 

"Take a compliment!" John drawled, gently shoving Arthur's side. 

"Never." Arthur said, glancing at John quickly before flicking another rock to the water.

"You wound me Arthur." 

Despite himself, Arthur said smiling: "And you give me a headache; so I guess we're even." Again they laughed, they were careful to keep their volume low as to not wake the camp, but the glint of humor in their eyes was enough. 

______

It was strange to wake up and see Annabelle emerging from Susan's tent for the second night in a row. Arthur wondered if she and Dutch were arguing, which wasn't too unbelievable considering she had been talking to Arthur about Dutch not too long ago. Arthur disliked how he felt happy about them arguing, an awful thing to feel, but he couldn't help feeling like he won something. Dutch had gone early this morning to find Leopold Strauss, Hosea told Arthur while he set up to continue his lessons with John.

Arthur considered leaving camp so that he wouldn't have to interact with Strauss, he could hunt (for bounty or for pelts) or he could go looking for some new plants. Even just do some wandering. It occurred to him, while he flipped through his journal and landed on a sketch of Manson Bonsack's home, that visiting him was also an option. The blonde shrugged to himself and decided that he'd visit him tomorrow, if he had the time. 

Miss Grimshaw was lingering around the horses, feeding them some oatcakes. It had been a while since Arthur had a moment with her. He approached her slowly and noticed the small smile she had on her as she fed Rachel (John's horse). Despite her tough demeanor, Miss Grimshaw is extremely kind. Knowing her since he was young, Arthur recognized that she adored animals. She could scold Arthur about Copper a hundred times, but he would never forget the day he spotted her petting Copper lovingly far from the sight of most of the campers. 

"Hey." Arthur greeted, Susan looked up and nodded at Arthur curtly. 

"Good morning, Arthur." She fed Rachel the last of the oatcake and dusted the crumbs off her hands onto her dress. "How are you?"

"Fine. How are you?" She nodded as to say she was good. 

"Quite a speech you gave yesterday. You think this Strauss fellow will be any good?" She began to walk towards the campfire, Arthur followed her. 

"I hope so. I mean, at some point we'll get used to him. Just like everyone else, right?" 

She snickered, they stopped at Pearson's table where she grabbed an apple. "I don't think I ever got used to 'smelly', over here." She jutted her thumb out to point at Pearson. "So who knows." 

Arthur couldn't help but laugh when he saw Pearson go red in annoyance. "What do you know." He heard the large man growl sheepishly. Susan laughed, something like a cackle, before returning her attention to Arthur. 

"It'll be fine, Arthur. Speaking about fine, it is NOT fine that you're wearing that shirt again." Her face scrunched and she grabbed at Arthur's collar of his striped blue shirt. "I'd need a third hand to count how many times I've seen you wearing that for several days in a row. Change, would you? Or is it glued on?" She teased. 

"Alright." He drawled. Tugging back at his collar when she moved her hands away. He hunched over when he heard her laugh at him as he walked away to his tent to change. 

_______

Arthur was loading up his horse's satchel with some fruit when he heard the loud thumps of trotting. He looked up towards the trail and saw Dutch riding contentedly with a mid-aged looking fellow riding on his own horse behind him. The man had some sort of glasses on, a suit and hat that would make Arthur think he was some sort of rich-snob, and he didn't look armed. He couldn't help the look of dislike that came over his face, he didn't like this guy already. 

"Arthur!" Dutch greeted with a cheeky grin. "This is Mr. Strauss." Dutch dismounted to hitch his horse on one of the nearby trees. Strauss did the same. "Leopold Strauss, this is Arthur Morgan." 

Strauss approached Arthur slowly, looking him up and down. It was clear he was uneasy. "Hello. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan." 

Arthur stared at Strauss' outreached hand. With a sigh, Arthur shook the man's hand. "Pleasure's mine." Arthur grumbled. Dutch watched the interaction with a smile, it was almost awkward. 

"You going anywhere Arthur?" Dutch asked almost confused, his expression was put off when he spotted Arthur's horse all saddled up and prepared to leave. 

"Oh, uh..." Arthur toyed with his belt awkwardly. "Yeah. I am. Thought I'd do some hunting."

"Today's a special day, Arthur." Dutch's smile had fallen dramatically. 

"Yeah, you're..uh...you're right. Sorry, I was distracted." Arthur looked down at the dirt before rushing to remove Zeke's saddle.

Dutch tutted and laughed at Arthur before leading Strauss to the camp.

_

It was clear that the camp was unsettled by this new addition to the family. Miss Grimshaw made it clear that she wasn't going to be won over easily when she distributed soup bowls to everyone but Strauss. Annabelle tried her best to be polite, but when Strauss seemed to be attempting to flirt with her she began to keep her distance. Pearson couldn't bring himself to care too much, all he did was greet Strauss and answer questions the man had in a curt way. John, for whatever reason, didn't even say hello. He stayed by Hosea, who's entire vibe was angry and annoyed. The only word mumbled by Hosea to Strauss was "hello". 

Dutch seemed to be at his last end. His eyes were squinty and his demeanor was no longer hopeful and chipper. He stuck by Strauss and had Susan set up his tent near Pearson and John's. It was nearing noon when Dutch approached Arthur, defeated. "No one likes him." Dutch admitted. 

"They don't." Arthur sighed, he wanted to comfort Dutch but they were out in the open. "To be fair, no one liked Pearson at first." 

"Most still don't." Dutch replied sourly. "I just want this to go well. I know this is...different but, Strauss isn't that bad. Is he?" 

"I don't know 'im." Arthur shrugged. "But I know you, Dutch." Their eyes met and Arthur felt his heart swell when a smile creeped on his face. "I trust your judgement." 

Dutch placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Thank you, son. I can always count on you." 

Arthur felt his face go red and his shoulder stiffened. Dutch let out a quiet snort and patted Arthur in the shoulder before walking off towards Pearson to get some leftover soup. Arthur glanced briefly at Dutch's behind and Strauss' tent, with a heavy sigh, Arthur walked over to Strauss' tent. 

Their conversation was light, Strauss talked about his youth and how he came to America in search of a lucrative life. One that he had been close to having, had it not been for some thieves who robbed him of his savings. He said, that the reason why he became a loanshark was to accumulate money quickly. It was a strange business that he tried to explain to Arthur, but the outlaw just shook his head in misunderstanding. He asked about the camp members, Arthur gave him a brief breakdown of who was who and how they are. He assured Strauss they'd come around, of course he was lying but Strauss didn't need to know that. 

At the end of their conversation, which was decided by the darkening sky, Strauss thanked Arthur immensely and promised he owed him. Arthur simply smiled and bid Strauss a good night. He was surprised to see everyone had gone into their tents already, everyone except Annabelle and Dutch. 

She was wrapped in his arms, her hands in his hair while they shared a desperate and hungry kiss. Beer bottles were on the floor. Dutch was moving his hips towards hers and her leg was hitching upwards against his. Arthur felt his blood run cold, he could hear his heart bumping obnoxiously in his ears. He blinked once and hard before sneaking away to his horse. He didn't even think of grabbing his saddle before rushing off towards the trail. 

\--------

He had no fucking idea where he was. It was dark, and there weren't any signs that he could see nearby. He had been so in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed which turns he had made or which direction he had gone. He would use the stars to help his direction like Hosea had taught him, but it was too cloudy to make up anything for certain.

He thought he could hear the howling of wolves, so he reached for his rifle; which was when he realized he hadn't packed shit. A groan escaped him, and he clutched onto the reigns tightly. He looked around for any clues as to where he could be. He was on some plains. Some mountains in the distance. He pursed his lips, he remembered vaguely crossing some water; a river. It could be he was nearby Valentine. 

He was about to kick Zeke back into a gallop when he heard the crushing of gravel and the thumps of horses trotting. He turned his head and saw a wagon coming up from the distance. In desperation, he had Zeke turn and head towards the wagon. He saw one figure begin to ready their gun, so he waved dismissively. 

"Howdy!" Arthur said innocently. "I ain't trynna hurt you. I'm lost! Could you uh...tell me about where we are?" 

The wagon came to a halt and Arthur could now see that there were two men riding in front. The wagon was pretty small, and the horses pulling it didn't look like work-horses. In a heavy accent, the man with the reigns said: "Near Valentine. Ye, it's up that trail, actually." 

"Oh! Thanks."

The two men nodded and continued on their way. Arthur made a mental map in his head, he'd have to go the opposite direction from Valentine to return to Black Water. He decided to just continue going west until he reached Dakota river, which would help him familiarize himself with the area. From there, it would be pure muscle memory. 

His stomach grumbled notably, and as he drew closer to the river he came to realize that it wasn't just hunger that wasn't sitting well with his stomach. He was anxious. He wasn't sure why, and he hated the idea that he dreaded going home. It was dark, he deserved to have a place to come back to where he felt comfortable. That should be the camp, with his family, except now when he thought of camp he thought of what Dutch and Annabelle were doing right now. 

When he reached the river, he dismounted and propped himself up against a rock near the water. Zeke was watching him closely, and he trusted the horse to keep an eye out as Arthur let his heavy eyes close. 

_________

He felt something cold and rubbery against his cheek, he let his eye open slowly to see Zeke nuzzling him gently. Arthur smiled and let his hand wander up to pet Zeke's neck. The horse pulled away when Arthur stood up, dusting his pants off. His eyes adjusted slowly to the daylight, and Arthur briefly wondered how he hadn't been eaten by some wolves. He noticed a chocolate bar on the floor. Strange. He picked it up and examined it before unwrapping the candy. He looked around for some other clue, but found none. 

"S'pose this was you, ey Zeke?" Arthur scratched gently behind Zeke's ear. The horse neighed quietly. "Well thanks. Poor boah, you haven't eaten much either, have you?" He led Zeke to the running water. Arthur finished the chocolate pretty quickly, shoving the wrapper in his satchel. 

_______

John was pleased to see Annabelle and Dutch talking like always the following morning. He thought they made a sweet couple. It was pretty early in the morning when John realized Arthur had gone and when he asked Hosea where he might be, the older man just shrugged and said "That's just Arthur, probably wandering." 

He thought about how much a person could wander. If after a few months, maybe, if there would be anything new to discover. To be fair, he had seen a map of Dutch's and it seemed like there was a lot to look at. Maybe Arthur wasn't done yet. 

Being at camp daily was becoming boring, so he was sure the 'wandering' was provoked by the dullness of being in one place all the time. He wondered if the princesses in the stories Hosea would read with him were bored of being locked away in a tower. Maybe that's why they were quick to marry the first guy they meet, they probably are desperate for any social stability.

Copper was fun to hang around with. Despite him being "Arthur's dog", John seemed to be the one Copper followed around the most. He would take him to play out in the woods or, if John was up for it, all the way to Upper Mountain River for a swim. Well, Copper would swim. John would just stand near the edges of the water, hoping Copper didn't get swept over by the current. He would be a lost dog then. 

John sat down across from Dutch, who he hardly ever seemed to talk to. Dutch was sitting next to Annabelle, chatting. John was petting Copper when something occured to him. "How come we don't like the O'Driscolls?" 

Dutch's attention snapped to John. Annabelle seemed to be a bit on edge. "They're bad people, John. Why? Did one of them approach you?" 

"One of them approached Arthur." John admitted. "That time that he took me hunting." John shrugged, he couldn't remember Arthur telling him to keep quiet about the O'Driscoll part, just the sleeping-with-men-for-money part. "I know they're bad, and Arthur told me to keep away from them, but I was just wondering why they're bad."

"Colm, their leader, and I don't see eye to eye." Dutch said carefully. "He treats his gang like their a bunch of...expendables. I hope to treat mine like a family."

John looked confused. He couldn't fathom why this was such a big deal. "Does...does that effect you? Or him? In any way?" He asked, trying his best not to sound offensive. 

Dutch smiled and shook his head. "It's strange sounding, sure, but it has a lot to do with morals. I think every life counts, especially if that life stands for yours as well. He doesn't think that way. People, John, fight over everything. Especially things that have to do with how things should be done everywhere. Like religion." 

"Are gangs a religion?" John asked, to him a stupid question as it came out of his mouth but to Dutch; it was enlightening. 

"Huh..." Dutch looked taken back, surprised by the analysis. "I suppose it could be." 

"I think it's like a cult." Annabelle giggled, Dutch rolled his eyes but John was giggling with her. 

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the bigger plots are starting soon 😬 this is a very long fic, and I am a very slow writer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make spooky story cuz 13th chapter but :/ i aint feelin spooky

Hosea felt his head splitting in two. He had received a letter from Bessie that day, he couldn't help but feel awful about being away from her. They had tried before to be together at camp, but Bessie wasn't the type to be running from the law. She wanted to settle and run a farm; not do crimes. The thing being, she had tried his way and he was beyond grateful of her doing that -- but they were both getting to the age of settling; they were past it, even. 

Her letter enclosed a picture she had taken of her home, a small thing nearly in shambles but could be fixed up. Her father had given it to her out of pity, he never liked Hosea and he always expected his poor, youngest daughter to end up clinging to her greatest expectations of her husband. So he gave her the farm. She asked Hosea, in the letter, to come by and get the feel of things. 

But how could he leave now? Now, that Strauss had infiltrated their camp and little John was learning to read. How could he leave Arthur behind when he was barely starting to take on new responsibilities and becoming a man? In a way, this camp is his family but so is Bessie.

To make things even more complicated, Strauss was making noise about a job he has for Arthur. Since he's 'intimidating' and all. Arthur hadn't even returned from wherever he'd gone off too, last he heard of Arthur was when John asked for him that morning. Hosea walked out of his tent and saw John, Dutch, and Annabelle chuckling about something. He was glad to see Dutch and John...bonding. Hosea was a aware that Dutch favored Arthur over pretty much anyone in the camp, but to be fair; Arthur was the first member besides Dutch and himself. 

And who else was Dutch supposed to favor? Simon? Hosea supposed it was between Arthur and John, now, and it was clear Dutch was going to pick Arthur. Except Arthur was acting out a bit lately, from what he had noticed, like when he supposedly was ignoring Dutch and got drunk silly to finally make amends. That was a strange thing to hear about. 

Whatever might be going on, Hosea hoped Arthur had it handled. He hoped that in the case Hosea were to...go...that the camp would be fine without him. At least for a little while. 

___________

Arthur returned sometime near noon, he looked a bit drained and confused but fine. John saw him handing Pearson over some meats, enough to feed them for a couple of days. He watched Arthur walk around camp up until Hosea directed his attention back to the book. The last he saw was Strauss approaching Arthur, he was sure that would be a lot more interesting of an interaction than any book he could read. 

____

"Arthur, how good to see you back. How was your trip?" 

"Fine." Arthur hooked his thumbs onto his belt. "You need something, Strauss?" 

The older man nodded and shakily grabbed his journal, Arthur watched as he thumbed through the pages. "Here," he said, "Paul Timberland. He owes me about a hundred dollars. Do you think you could head over to him and collect it?" 

"Uh-" Arthur scratched the back of his neck - "How exactly do I do that?" 

"Oh, you know. Just; scare him a bit?" Strauss shrugged. 

"Okay. That's...okay. Where do I find him?" 

"Up in Valentine. A bit of a trip, but you'll find him rather quickly. He usually lingers in the bar." Arthur nodded and Strauss thanked him before walking off. Arthur briefly considered asking John to join him, wasn't a matter of time before he'd be doing this type of work. 

He dismissed the idea, though, because Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He hadn't ever really demanded a person to hand over money they owed. It was always sneaking off with wallets, or sneaking into the safes' rooms of banks while Dutch and Hosea did the demanding. He supposed it wasn't all too different, but still. He would rather handle this alone for now. 

He couldn't help but notice Dutch was enthralled in a conversation with Annabelle. So much so, he hadn't greeted Arthur. It wasn't his job to, but Arthur still couldn't help but be irked by it. He felt so sensitive lately, and confused. He remembered briefly, as he mounted Zeke again (now with all his gear), when Hosea told him that adulthood started at 19. How he had explained that Arthur couldn't possibly have a mind of his own until he was an adult, and that it was until then that things would get complicated. 

Arthur smiled, Hosea was always right. That really shouldn't surprise him anymore. 

_________

Arthur was grateful for his encounter the night before. He was able to retrace his steps, and follow the trail the strangers had pointed the direction of Valentine to get there. It was quite the place, a bit dirtier than Blackwater, but nice. Funnily enough, Arthur noticed there were two bars; which made things a bit complicated for Arthur but it didn't seem like too big of a town. He hitched his horse in front of the the hotel and fed Zeke an apple.

Growing up as a criminal, you tend to gather some sort of a sixth sense. Certain things stand out to you and it's easier to pick up when something doesn't feel normal. Despite being in a new town, Arthur was able to pick up on something. He felt like he was being watched. He did his best not to make it look like he was paranoid, so he only took peeks through his peripherals to see if he could spot anything. He couldn't. 

When Zeke was done, Arthur made sure he had his pistol on him and some cash before heading into the bar closest to him. It was fairly large, a second floor was open to the public as well as a barber. Arthur made a mental note of that. He headed over to the bar, the bartender was a blonde fellow with a bushy mustache. Arthur always wondered what it would be like to have a mustache that bushy, would it tickle? 

"Hey." Arthur said to catch the bartender's attention, the man looked up and hurried over once he poured another patron their drink. 

"What can I get you, mister?" His voice was low, gruff, and despite his wording -- uncaring. It seemed like this is the last place he wanted to be. 

"Some whiskey." The bartender nodded curtly and poured Arthur his drink. "And, uh, you heard of a fellow named Paul Timberland?" Arthur said his name slowly. 

The bartender raised an equally bushy brow, "I reckon I have. Need a little something to jog my memory, though." Arthur smirked and pulled out ten dollars. The bartender took it quickly. "Go to the other bar, he's always playing poker or drinking there." 

Arthur thanked him, quickly finished his drink, and left the bar. Again, his senses were getting the better of him. He stopped at the edge of the bar's platform and looked around. There was plenty of people, several of which had never seen Arthur before but would that matter? Lots of people came to Valentine for a night's stay. Arthur wasn't abnormal. 

He took a quick glance at Zeke to make sure he was okay, when he was sure the horse was fine, Arthur headed over to the smaller bar.

Upon walking inside, he felt a bit of frustration. The bar was empty except for the bartender, who was quick to offer Arthur drinks and food. Arthur politely declined and asked about Paul, with a look of defeat the bartender shook his head and said he hadn't seen Paul at all today. Arthur thanked him and walked back outside. He looked around, not like that would help much; he didn't know what Paul looked like. What Arthur did notice, however, was the suspicious number of men with green bandanas. Most likely O'Driscolls. There weren't many of them, but enough to know that they were probably trying to claim Valentine. Meaning Arthur should back off before they discover who he is. Luckily, Dutch doesn't indulge himself in camp colors. He likes to play it smart and blend in. 

Arthur wondered briefly if the men he met on the trail were O'Driscolls, many of them were Irish. (Colm is Irish, so he prefers to take in Irish folk.) 

The thought didn't stay with him long before he started approaching simpler, looking folk and asking about Paul. Many just shook their heads, same answer as the bartender: he was no where to be seen. Arthur realized he was desperate when he went to ask the Sheriff. 

"Who's asking?" The Sheriff asked cautiously. 

"Uh...a friend." He lied. 

The Sheriff smirked and lit his cigarette, he offered Arthur one but Arthur declined. "Paul doesn't have friends. Hell, he's my brother and he ain't my friend." 

Arthur perked up. "So you know where he is?" 

"I do. He's chatting up the doctor, something about his back." Arthur thanked him and left.

The moment he walked in the door, Arthur felt all sweaty and clammy. He was afraid his voice would waver, or he wouldn't seem legit, so he puffed his chest out and strode over confidently as he could. There was only the doctor and one man inside, the man looked fairly young -- still older than Arthur -- but his clothes was worn and his face was dirty. 

"You Paul Timberland?" Arthur asked with a gruff, uncaring voice(like the one from the first bartender, he imitated.) 

"Who's asking?" The man quivered, Arthur smiled. 

"You owe me some money. Or rather, the Strauss fella." Arthur looped his thumbs into his belt. "About a hundred dollars. If you ain't got it, you can give some of your belongings." 

Paul sighed. He banged his head gently against the wall. Arthur noticed the doctor glance at Paul with a look of empathy and concern. "I don't got...nothing. Sir, I --" the man seemed near tears -- "my wife is pregnant and I have 'er livin' behind the Sheriff's office in a damned shed!" He sobbed. "I ain't got no money, no job...only thing I got is a vice to gambling." 

Arthur pursed his lips, his chest tightening but he stood as tall as he had been. "Ain't my problem." Paul looked up at Arthur, defeated. 

_____

The shed was small, big enough for a bed and a crib crowded together. Arthur nearly turned and sped off when he laid eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her belly round as a soccer ball. Her hair was long and brown, nearly red, her eyes a pretty hazel. She looked young and...in love. "Paul!" She exclaimed when the door swung open to Arthur. She was afraid. Arthur...made her afraid. 

"It's alright. It's.." Paul sighed. "We need money."

"You spent it all!" She sobbed, her emotions getting the best of her. 

"Well I --" Paul stumbled and went red -- "you have put me here, woman. I never wanted...this." His voice was quiet but the woman didn't need him to repeat himself, it was clear they had discussed this before. 

They were all quiet before Arthur spoke up. "You," he directed his attention to Paul, "go and tell your brother that an O'Driscoll needs you to pay up a hundred dollars. Tell him, go." Paul nodded and hurried off. "You," Arthur sighed, "here." He handed her the money he had left in his satchel. "Hide it away, use it for you and your baby." 

Her eyes were open wide in shock, her hands trembled gently as she took the money. "I...thank you." She said in a whisper. 

Arthur heard a yell of what seemed like, "A hundred dollars?!" He snickered. She giggled, a little more comfortable. 

"You aren't an O'Driscoll, are you?" She asked quietly. 

"No," he shrugged, "just a man doing his job." 

"Glad to know those exist." She sighed. "Even though you're taking money from my family." 

"Ain't your family."

"Excuse me?" 

"Family takes care of each other. Forgets their...guilty pleasures so that they can take care of each other. This what you got here? This is a prison." He stared at her, her expression lost in thought.

When Paul returned, Arthur couldn't muster to speak anymore. He couldn't stop looking between Paul and his wife and their unborn child. How could he live a slothful, gambling life knowing his family lived in a shed? "I...hope that we never see each other again." Paul said quietly. Arthur took the money Paul handed over to him. 

Arthur managed to gather together some words. "Fix this." He said. "Get yourself a job, some money, and give your family the life they deserve." They made eye contact for a fraction of a second, Arthur saw pain in Paul's eyes and something else that he couldn't quite place. Arthur didn't stick around, though, he snuck out of the shed and hurried to his horse. He could no longer manage to be here. He needed to go home, to his family. 

Halfway to camp, he wondered what it would have been like had he grown up with his ma and pa. Would he still be an outlaw? His pa would've made sure of that, except his ma never like the crime business. Had she not died, would he have grown up going to school? Maybe even getting a fancy job like a doctor or businessman. Most importantly, would Arthur trade this life for it?

He was so into his thoughts, he nearly didn't notice the chocolate bar wedged between the saddle and Zeke. He slowed to a trot and tugged the candy out from the space. Arthur eyed it cautiously, it was the same brand as the one from the river he thinks. He hadn't really paid attention to the wrapper, but the illustrations on it seemed familiar. Unsure whether to eat it or not, he stashed it away in his satchel for later inspection. Clearly, someone had meant to give that chocolate to Arthur and now he wonders if they were the same person who left the chocolate bar for him before? 

Most importantly, why were they doing it? He felt a bit desperate to return to Valentine and sort this all out, but -- as Hosea says -- letting the cat out of the bag is a lot easier than putting it back in. Arthur wasn't prepared to look for trouble, he had a lot on his mind already. Except he knew that this would also be in the back of his mind, a reminder that something wasn't quite right and he didn't even know why. Maybe that would make it worse later, but for now it was best for him to just shove it down and wait for it to float back up when it had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This day isn't over, Arthur's got more to do but I wanted to post something :) it's been a while. So enjoy some early plot-stuff. We are beginning to walk up the curve of destruction. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and who you think is leaving chocolate for Arthur. I'm thinking of giving him a nickname, like Choco-Guy or Count Chocula 😎
> 
> Also, more characters stories are going to be showing up -- no more just Arthur and John lol but they will still take up much of the plots


End file.
